Distorted Perceptions
by Aurora2424
Summary: A different decision by Dr. Vertes during the episode "Female Trouble" creates new issues for both Max and Logan. ML
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel and my only reimbursement is reviews.

**A/N: Almost every DA fanfic writer takes a crack at the ambivalently viewed episode "Female Trouble." This is mine. It revolves around Vertes' decision to call Lydecker, a decision that Max found illogical and which ended up in Vertes' death and Logan's loss of mobility (and short foray into suicidal tendencies). This fiction presumes that choice was never made, and Vertes instead chose a different path. What follows is a five "episode" arch of what changed after that, paying particular attention to Logan's mindset. **

**I, for one, feel the show relied on Logan's paralysis a little too heavily in keeping our star-crossed heroes apart (evidence of course being the virus they felt they needed to use in season two) when good old fashioned anger and betrayal would suffice. Much of which I think is present in the episode, but was overshadowed by Vertes' death and Logan's "suicide." The fact that I get to skip over the ridiculous Mrs. Moreno water-drip scene is just a bonus. **

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Episode 1, Alternative Ending to Female Trouble…**

Our story picks up right as Max tells Logan that Jace has "decided to switch teams." Although Logan is uncomfortable with Max's trust in her sister, he goes along with her decision and prepares Jace's new identity. As mentioned he has an appointment with Vertes scheduled for later that day, and Max is headed back to work.

**XXX**

**Fogle Towers…**

Max's retreating form could be heard leaving Logan's apartment until she closed the door with a solid click.

It was a better sound than the slams and bangs of yesterday, Logan wryly thought, thinking how she'd discovered his medical condition by spying. The look of betrayal and perhaps guilt in her eyes when he confirmed that he had, in fact, been seeing a Manticore specialist was enough to make Logan wince.

That look had also been replaced by the hopeful, teasing smile that had accompanied her words. Words that Logan hadn't been able to hold back his own smile at. _"Life is good,"_ she'd said, and he'd agreed, looking into her beautiful face and recognizing that there was still a chance to continue walking.

Walking was the gateway, Logan thought, the arch into a land of possibilities. It would lead him back to the lifestyle he had once known and the confidence he had once enjoyed. And when he had that, Logan reasoned, anything was possible.

Everything would be better than okay, it would be good, just as long as he kept putting one foot in front of the other…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Meanwhile, at the safe house….**

For the better part of the morning Jace and Dr. Vertes had inhabited completely opposite ends of the Eyes Only safe-house. Jace had contented herself with imagining what her baby would look like, how Victor was doing, and what life would be like outside of Manticore. Although she was afraid, something she'd never admit aloud, of living life beyond the order and structure of Manticore, her fear for her child was greater. The mothering instinct was strong in the X5s, a combination of higher human intellect and pure, visceral animal instinct. It was more than enough to push Jace to do what she had been unable to almost eleven years ago.

It was with those thoughts in mind that she was interrupted.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Vertes asked, as she confronted a reclining Jace who was lying on her back absentmindedly rubbing her belly. Even lying on a stained mattress in a black tank top, the X5 looked strong and beautiful, with her dark skin, clear and smooth, and her symmetric facial features reflecting the beauty embedded in all of her generation's DNA.

Although the doctor's sudden presence unnerved her, Jace's face reflected no surprise, having long become use to remaining passive in the face of anxiety.

"Better," Jace responded. She was still uneasy with this woman she tried to kill. Vertes represented the last tangible link to the past that Jace was attempting to break from, but she tried to suppress that feeling and focus on making slight amends to Vertes for Max's sake.

Despite being wrapped up in her own world, and strapped to a bed for some of the time, Jace's sharp hearing had allowed her to listen in on most of the conversations among Max, Logan, and Vertes. It was from those conversations that she had quickly picked on the man's condition and Max's involvement. And although Jace too hated Vertes, she recognized that Logan's ability to walk was dependent upon the woman. More importantly, Logan's walking was important to Max, and, therefore, by association to Jace. The woman was a necessary evil.

As if hearing her thoughts, the slim, icy blond gave Jace a small smile before beginning what seemed to be a patient/doctor consultation: "You're going to need to begin a vitamin regiment. Although X5 anatomy is resilient your baby is going to be diverting a lot of your mineral intake. In particular, you'll need more iron and B12 supplements than the average woman – not to mention getting a steady stream of lactose to support your serotonin levels." Vertes warned her.

The advice wasn't unwelcome, but still Jace frowned as she pondered that information.

"But where am I going to find that stuff? I mean it's not like I can walk to the corner store and pick up prenatal vitamins specific to X5 pregnancies."

"True." Vertes acknowledged, "but I'm sure Max's… _connections_ can get you set up with most of what you need. And if you want, I can use the resources I have back at the clinic and put together an intravenous supplement for now."

The offer was unexpected to say the least.

"You'd do that for me? Why?" Jace asked, immediately suspicious of this woman's magnanimity, despite her efforts to distance herself from her past training. Manticore hadn't raised her to be credulous.

The doctor didn't respond at first, but instead walked over to the window to look down at the street below, despite her hard life style the older woman was still attractive. It took all of Jace's restraint not to jump up and check the area for Manticore issued soldiers, sure as she was that the woman had betrayed her.

Finally, in what sounded like a penitent voice, Vertes began.

"Let's just say that Max's accusations earlier hit a nerve," she sighed, turning to face Jace again. "I can have something put together in a few hours. Rest now, you'll need it."

Reluctantly, Jace complied, laying down and attempting to resist all of the internal instincts warning her to flee.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Later in the afternoon, at Vertes' clinic.**

There was nothing imposing or impressive about Dr. Vertes' current clinic. Situated in one of Seattle's worst neighborhoods, its purpose was to avoid attention rather than garnering looks of awe from her clientele. Since leaving Manticore, the doctor had had to rely solely on her reputation and her unusual branch of advanced medicine to quietly gather willing patients to her. If they objected to the sad state of her seemingly unsterile examination rooms, or the exposed pipes that seemed to follow her to each new location, then that was too bad. She had a valuable commodity to offer, and after she treated Logan Cale she suspected its value would go up even higher. As long as she could keep Manticore from catching up with her.

It that regard, she wasn't entirely unhappy with having come into contact with the escaped '09er. The young transgenic had proven very useful, and with any luck she would continue to be. As long as she didn't let that blind spot of hers completely distract her from seeing the reality of the situation.

"Ahh…" the doctor let out a small sigh of satisfaction as she mixed in the last of her compound. "That should do. Do you want me to administer it or would you prefer to do it yourself?"

The afternoon had continued to slip by after the conversation between the two women. Jace had continued to ponder Vertes' words, worried about her baby, as previously unthought-of ways she could screw up motherhood began to present themselves.

It was a dark contrast to the more positive outlook of Max, who had spent the afternoon enjoying her strange little life – delivering packages, chatting with Original Cindy, and cheering Sketchy on as he performed a bicycle trick that Max probably could have accomplished at age 12. It didn't matter, Max could easily appreciate the human achievements around her.

Now it was about quitting time, and Jace was anxiously awaiting the arrival of her sister; keen for her advice and support.

Returning an answer to Vertes' question, Jace responded, "I'll have Max do it when she gets here, which should be any minute."

Jace carefully watched Vertes' stoic face for any visible signs of alarm, her instincts continuing to scream at her although nothing recognizable manifested.

"As you wish," Vertes answered, before setting up for her session with Logan, seemingly unconcerned.

It was the last thing they bothered to say to one another for several long minutes. However, soon the sound of a door opening alerted first Jace and then Vertes of Max's arrival as she came walking into the clinic area, a small smile in place, meant for her sister.

"Hey, Jace, you here?" Upon seeing her, Max confirmed, "I got your message. What's up?"

"Hey, Max. I thought you might like to go with me up the street; I'd like to do some shopping, get some regular street clothes, maybe some baby stuff." Jace smiled sheepishly at her admission. They both knew how odd those requests sounded coming from an X5 and both of them relished the conversation in their own way.

"Sure thing. We'll leave in a few," Max smiled back at her, pleased at her quick transition. Turning to Vertes she added, "Logan should be here any minute; he seems to be doing okay."

It was more than just a statement; it was a request for information.

"The prognosis seems hopeful," Vertes confirmed to Max's unspoken question.

Max nodded, before taking up a new subject, content to let the current one lie.

"Listen," Max began, "I don't know how to break this to you, but you've got a bit of rat problem. Heard them on my way in."

"Well hopefully I won't be here overly long to worry about it." Vertes countered, daring Max to say otherwise.

"Just as long as Logan gets what he needs," she warned, raising her eyebrows in a double dare.

The women seemed to be squaring off, Jace thought, a test of wills. And although Jace had every confidence in Max, there was something about Vertes that spoke of the steel beneath the surface. The woman was a survivor, and wouldn't hesitate to do what she needed to remain that way. For now, that was incumbent on Max's protection, but Jace wasn't fooled into complacency.

As any good soldier knew, there was more than one way to manipulate someone, and for all Max's seemingly impenetrable exterior, it was obvious she had developed a weakness, one that Vertes was also aware of. No, she thought, there was no doubt what that weakness was. Or more accurately who - attractive and, Jace estimated, about 6 foot 2 when standing, a state which was tenuous at best. It was the most expedient way any trained operative would use to get to Max, the good doctor included.

Still meeting Max's gaze, Vertes continued: "Of that," she nodded, "You have my word."

Although Vertes was unaware of it, both Max and Jace heard Logan's car pulling in.

"Listen Max," Jace interrupted, eager to address her other point of concern, "Can you give this shot before we go?"

There was only the barest hint of a signal. One so small a regular person would have doubted that they even saw it, but Max didn't.

"What is it?" Max asked, immediately suspicious.

"A vitamin supplement the doctor made for me," Jace replied, her eyes never wavering from Max's as they communicated silently.

"Just a basic mixture of the essential compounds," Vertes responded, again turning toward her preparation for Logan's session.

"Then you won't mind taking it yourself," Max charged, holding out the syringe to doctor. Again their test of wills continued in its back and forth pattern, as Max upped the ante.

"Not at all," Vertes drawed, turning around with what seemed to be labored annoyance. "I thought you might be suspicious."

Taking the needle the doctor put it to her own skin and emptied the contents of the syringe in such a way so that both X5 could clearly see the contents entering into her blood stream. Vertes barely wasted time acknowledging Max's look of acceptance, before seeming to dismiss her.

"There are three more prepared over on the counter," Vertes stated distractedly, as she worked on her machinery, hooking up wires and turning on switches.

There was no time to respond as the sounds of Logan entering the building become apparent to even Vertes. He was still in his wheelchair, with his cane lying across his lap as if it were in anticipation for use. Despite herself, Max couldn't help but smile at the sight. Logan's eyes seem clear and controlled; none of the feverish gleam that she'd detected the night of their confrontation. He'd scared her then, and hurt her, though she didn't want to admit it.

Though the smile is small, and Logan doesn't catch it, both of the other women did and added it to their furthering suspicions.

"Doctor Vertes," Logan stated in greeting, before noticing the X5s. "Max, Jace – didn't expect to see you two here."

Although his tone was civil, there was a note of wariness behind it. Obviously, a part of him continued to doubt the Manticore assassin, despite Max's words of support.

"We were just headed to do some shopping. Need me to pick up anything while I'm out?" Max's asked, her tone casual, detached.

"Not that I can think of," Logan answered, the exchange obviously superfluous.

Although he tried to hide it, Logan's transition from the wheelchair to the examination table was difficult. Vertes needed to help him, and Logan was reluctant to accept the help. It was also apparent from his facial expression that he was still in a great deal of pain, and from the short, furtive glances he made toward the X5s it was obvious he was anxious to hide it from Max.

As Logan and Vertes turned back to Max, they saw her removing an empty syringe from Jace's arm. Her expression suggested that she didn't notice Logan's signs of distress at his transfer, but the front is pure pretext, and Logan knew it.

"Play nice." Max bluntly taunted, before giving Vertes a death stare and walking out of the building with Jace in tow, the warning evident in her gaze.

"Charming personality on that one," Vertes deadpanned.

Logan didn't respond immediately, but met her gaze with his supposedly neutral one. Any charade of neutrality, however, was dispelled by the threat underlying his voice, "You'll have to excuse her, she had a lousy childhood."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Vertes clinic…**

A sweaty but smiling Logan could be seen watching over the operation system that monitors his progress. From his satisfied expression and the mobility of his legs, it was clear that the session had gone well. Not only was he able to move the wheels on the bike more readily, but by the end of the session he was able to get up of his own volition.

The progress seemed to relax him, and as he answered Vertes' questions his voice no longer contained the edge that has been so apparent since the episode began. And although he maintained the flow of conversation with Vertes, he also glanced over at the door from time to time as if anxious for someone to enter.

He didn't need to wait long. Just as he pulled his sweater over his head, a loud bang was heard from the front door as Max came charging in, attitude first with her temper riding only seconds behind.

She came to a halt beside Logan, catty corner to Vertes, with the examining chair in between. On the silver table that contained Vertes' medical instruments, Max slammed something down hard, causing the table to jump and Logan and Vertes to stare down in alarm.

"I took care of your rat problem," Max taunted, he voice controlled and sarcastic, but with eyes blazing.

A rat, stone dead, rested on the table.

Vertes didn't flinch, although she was aware that she had been found out. Letting her eyes wander over to Jace, who was standing a few feet away from the scene, she boldly responded:

"Not the big one."

"You sick bitch!" Max flared, and she turned to walk around the table, only to be stopped by Logan who gripped her arm soundly enough to garner her attention.

"Whoa, Max. What's going on?" Logan asked, trying to gain eye contact with the fuming X5.

"You want to know what's going on?! The good doctor over there prepared a nice prenatal vitamin cocktail for Jace and her baby. Seems the rat I administered it too didn't find it all that invigorating!"

"Vertes?"

"I did what I had to," Vertes responded, turning to Max as she continued. "I heard you talking the other day and I knew it was only a matter of time before you let your guard down and left me unattended with her," indicating Jace.

"So you just decided you'd kill an innocent baby to guarantee your continued survival," Max simmered.

When Vertes doesn't answer Max continued, "You must have forgotten you put some IQ points in our cocktail. That whole bait and switch plan is like operation basics 101. Figured you'd make one good batch and one bad, and I wouldn't think twice about it as I administered poison to my own sister!!"

"Sister?" Vertes challenged. "What about your friend here? He isn't going to be able to continue to walk without my existence – have you thought about that?"

A notable air of electricity hung over the room at Vertes words, and both Jace and Logan turned to look at Max, who's face had hardened at Vertes' proclamation - the game the doctor was playing suddenly became crystal clear.

"It's because of my friend here that you're alive in the first place." She spat back after a few moments. "But see you miscalculated, cause now I'm finding your continued existence kind of unnecessary."

Max once again moved to reach Vertes, but Logan again blocked her path, this time by standing in front of her and putting his hands up in a gesture of stop.

"Max…"

Their eyes meet, and Max rapidly searched his gaze, looking for his opinion. What she saw evidently disturbed her and she jerked away from him slightly before attempting to continue with her intent.

"Max, listen," Logan began, aware that he only had a few second to plead his case. His voice made her pause, and the price of her attention became clear when she forced him to meet her gaze, not letting him hide.

Momentarily, Logan found himself pausing, caught in her brown pools and suddenly reluctant to continue with the conversation. Nevertheless, he found his voice: "I know what the doctor did is disgusting…" he threw his voice slightly to make sure Vertes knew he was referencing her directly, before proceeding, "but…"

"But?! Logan…"

He raised his voice slightly to keep her attention, "BUT... Jace is leaving tonight, I've made arrangements, and Vertes only needs a few weeks before she can leave Seattle."

"So I'm just suppose to let her get away with attempted murder on my niece or nephew?!"

"Max…" Jace's voice entered the fray for the first time, pulling her sister's attention away from the conversation, and subtext going on between her and the man in front her. "What he says is right. Vertes will be more useful alive than dead."

It's the soldier's voice, the pragmatic voice that Jace spoke with. Although the woman had almost killed her and her baby, Jace knew that a soldier didn't make tactical decisions with the heart. Besides, the doctor had hit Max where it hurt, and no matter how much of an angry front she put up, it would only be a matter of time before Max would be forced to give into Vertes' demands. It was better for all involved if Jace could ease that transition and allow her sister to save face.

"I wasn't going to kill her," Max responded, before turning to Vertes as she threatened, "just rough her up some."

"Come on Max, let's call it even," Jace soothed, attempting to elicit an agreement.

"Hardly!" Max vehemently gritted out at Vertes, before giving Logan a furious look and storming out of the building. The look between them lasted only a second, but it's long enough to communicate the fire and betrayal behind her eyes. An image that would continue to haunt Logan for the rest of the night and into the subsequent days.

After Max's departure, silence settled over the run down doctor's office, before Jace shrugged her shoulders slightly at Logan, as if acknowledging that it wasn't a bad way for this confrontation to end, and then nodded by way of goodbye before following her sister out of the building, never once stopping to look at the woman who had attempted to betray her.

Logan's eyes watched them go before huffing loudly and rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of frustration. It was only as he turned to Vertes that the look of his distaste on his face at her presence became visible.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers, later that night.**

"Passport, papers, contact name, and this…" Logan stated, as he dumped the contents of Jace's necessary documentation and a few thousand bucks into a manila envelope. "That should do it."

Since Max had entered his apartment only moments ago the two of them have been all business. Logan fortified behind his desk, and Max standing with overt attitude by the door frame. Neither was truly making eye contact as the tension between them continued to thicken with unspoken words.

"I'll make sure she gets this," Max answered. It was a far cry from the thanks she usually gave him, but Max figured Logan owed Jace, and her variation on the usual theme was her way of communicating her own displeasure with him. It didn't go unnoticed, but it was only when she turned to leave that Logan finally raised his eyes to her and halted her progress with a word.

"Max…"

It came out raspy, part exasperation, part apology. But it did the trick and Max paused instead of leaving. Turning again to face him, Max met his eyes and waited for him to continue, she was done making concessions for the day.

"I know what Vertes did is unforgivable, Max."

"Really? Figure that out by yourself?" she lashed back, annoyed with his attempts to mitigate the situation.

In response, his voice became increasing intense, with notes of desperation coming to the surface.

He didn't acknowledge her sarcasm, but continued. "But Max… I _need_ her."

The word 'need' made Max visibly flinch.

"So you can walk," she added, although she didn't understand why.

"I will only take a few weeks, eight to twelve at most." His eyes probed hers, holding her attention, and willing her to understand.

She doesn't.

"Well you don't _need_ my blessing. You've made it abundantly clear that your walking has nothing to do with me." Max's tone was harsh, as she twisted his words from yesterday and threw them back at him. Below the surface, it contained all the pain and hurt at his perceived rejection.

"Max!" Logan stated, this time clearly annoyed, "That's not what I meant…"

Breaking off, he rubbed the back of his neck in frustration for the second time that day. This wasn't how he'd envisioned the conversation going. He'd rehearsed how to approach her before she came over, but now none of it was coming out as intended. He needed to handle this differently, to make her understand.

When he finally pick up the strands of their discussion, Logan's voice had altered, no long angry, it was now earnest and low as he attempted to explain his feelings. Something neither of them was good at.

"Since the accident, my life has felt like it's been on hold, like I'm always waiting on something or someone. I want to stop waiting, Max, and move forward, and this is the only way I can do that. I'm so close to getting my life back; I can't lose it now."

From his myopic perspective, Logan had no idea of how those words sounded to Max.

All he could see were the endless training sessions with Bling, the hours spent waiting on informants to call, the tension of sending Max to do what he would willing have helped her with. His very nature rebelled against the inertia forced upon him.

Despite all his introspection, Logan Cale was a man of action; someone who did what he thought was right in spite of the dangers. He was someone who would have willingly followed Max into the cabin that day on nothing more than one powerful kiss; that is, if a bullet fragment hadn't lodged itself in his spine. Sonrisa's men did more than just sever Logan's spine; they had severed Logan from himself.

But that's not what Max heard in his answer. She heard how the past nine months have meant nothing to him; that their moments together were just passing time until he could get back to his real life, a life that she knew nothing about and has never been a part of. It is a new wound to add to mounting pains Logan had caused her within the last week, and like a hurt animal, she lashed back.

"I get it Logan. Vertes means life… your life. And if a transgenic baby has to be sacrificed along the way, then so be it."

It wasn't true, and it wasn't fair, but it hit home nonetheless.

"Max!"

"That's what we're built for, right? To be soldiers, or guinea pigs, or hired legs until you can get back your own."

"Max, you're blowing this way out of proportion. The doctor isn't Manticore anymore, hell even she's a victim of Mantcore's lies."

"Don't, Logan. Don't you dare. Don't you defend that woman to me; you have no idea what she is."

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Logan abruptly asked, wheeling from her accusations.

His response threw her. The Great Eyes Only, Max's humanitarian touchstone, had just asked her why he should care about a woman's attempt to kill one of her siblings. For the first time in a long time, Max began to draw a distinction between Logan and her family. It was her breaking point, and the passion behind her words was suddenly and chillingly replaced by a new deadly cold.

"You're right; it's not your problem. And now Vertes isn't mine – see you around Logan."

With a speed she rarely exercised, Max spun around, intent of fleeing, when Logan's voice called her back for one last go round.

"Max! Listen to me. I know you have every right to hate her and soon she'll be out of your life forever. But I need you to do me a favor, the most important favor I've ever asked you for."

Her eyes, when they turned to him, were like coal, dark and hard, and Logan was unable to tell what she's thinking. Momentarily, he paused. Deep down, he knew he was pushing her away and that somehow he's hurting her – and internally he swore he'd make it up to her - but first, he needed to walk. And so he continued.

"When Jace doesn't return, Manticore might send another assassin. I need you to keep Vertes alive; I'm going to help her move to a new facility, but I need your help to protect her."

Max paused a few heart beats before answering; the coldness was still there, but also a note of disbelief crept into her voice, "You'd ask that of me, after what she's done?"

Part of Max was throbbing with pain, though the surface remained impassive. Everything about this conversation went against the very essence of who she thought Logan was. And she couldn't help but draw a parallel between how Manticore had used them then and how Logan was using her now, selfishly and coldly, with little regard for their own feelings. Except back then, it hadn't felt like this, this ache in her heart as Logan implicitly chose Vertes over her.

In the back of her mind, Max heard Logan's words from yesterday taunting her with new insidious meaning: _"Not everything about me is automatically your business."_

She should have known better than to care.

Logan heard her, but not the import behind her words. He was desperate and depressed and all he could currently see was her unwillingness to put her unpleasant feelings aside for his recovery.

"Max it's only a few weeks. Weeks compared to a lifetime."

Despite the words, the tone is stern and didactic. Logan doesn't beg, pride has become his last refuge, and after baring himself only moments before he doesn't think to modify it.

Max's eyes were bright with pain, but her voice steady as she answered, "Fine, Logan, I'll keep her alive, but know that I consider us even after this."

A small tug at his heart was Logan's only warning, and it was not enough to stop him from plowing ahead. Neither of them realized how close he'd been to the edge the other night; how desperately he'd been banking on Vertes' cure.

"And what's that suppose to mean?" he urged, his own eyes unnaturally bright.

"It means I'm going to make damn sure you're on your feet because afterward I'm out. Zack was right; it's us against all of you, and I know which side I'm on."

Nothing else is said as Max stomped out of the apartment, leaving a stunned Logan in her wake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Bus Stop (almost exactly like the show, except one addition.)**

Max and Jace exchanged their goodbyes as the sisters they'd once been instead of the soldiers Manticore had manipulated them into being. In what passed as a deep sign of trust from an X5, Jace asked Max to get word to Victor and let Max know that the baby will be named after her.

Before Jace stepped on the bus she added, almost hesitantly: "Max, about what happened. Don't be too hard on him."

There was no hesitation on Max's part, she knew of whom they're speaking.

"Yeah, right." Max's usual sarcastic tone was in place.

"You know," Jace began thoughtfully, "back at Manticore, Victor would sometimes tell me that he felt like he wasn't good enough to be with me. That he felt weak and helpless in comparison."

"What'd he expect, it's not like we asked to be built this way."

"Max, all I'm saying is it must be a difficult thing – to give up walking, your mobility, based on what was done by someone else. You can't expect him to put everyone else's needs before his own."

Max smiled at her sister as if in agreement, but when Jace turned to board the bus Max stated in low, sarcastic voice: "Yeah…. Right…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Space Needle, Max voiceover…**

_Except the thing is, that's what Logan's always done. He puts other people's needs ahead of his own; he sacrifices everything to do what's good and right… and somewhere along the way I just assumed he always would._

_It's not just Vertes, it's that by continuing on it's almost like he's condoning everything they did to us back at Mantiore. I don't know, guess I never thought Logan Cale could turn out to be so human…_

_Whatever… in all the excitement I guess I forgot. It's eleven years ago today that we escaped. So Tinga, Zack, Jondy, Brin and everybody else… happy anniversary kids. And Donald Lydecker, where ever you are, you can kiss my transgenic ass._

_A baby… named after me, that is awesome._

_Fade to black…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A huge thanks to Lisa, who has provided both beta skills and insightful feedback. Not only did she have to endure my atrocious comma usage, but she also walked me through the really rough draft way back in September when past and present tense were merging to form an odd outline thing - and she still managed to read it again! What can I say? She's the best :-)


	2. Episode 2 Reverse, Rewind, Begin Again

**Episode 2 - Reverse, Rewind, Begin Again**

_Scene opens with Logan standing in his kitchen dressed in a forest green polo shirt and grey slacks. He leans heavily on his cane as he picks up his cooking utensils and walks over to the sink in preparation for cleaning them. Dishes are tossed all over his usually spotless kitchen making it obvious he has been doing some major food prep and has only now finished up. _

XXXX

With the spray of the water and the clank of the dishes, Logan was unable to distinguish the noise of feet entering the room from behind him. It was just as well.

Bling entered the room, noting the disarray as he lets a small wry smile escape that would have only annoyed the intensely private cyber-journalist.

Instead, the observant man choose to compose himself before speaking, waiting until the humor left his features.

"Hey Logan. Wow, you making a meal for an army?" the therapist asked. Like always, his voice was calm and slightly cheerful as he surveyed the damage.

"No, just attempting to feed one hungry transgenic soldier, if she'll let me." Logan answered, his voice somewhat distracted as he focused on the task of cleaning up.

"Max still giving you the run around?" Bling knowingly asked, amused despite himself at the latest game these two had decided to play.

Giving something that sounded suspiciously like a grunt, Logan finally admitted: "We haven't spent more than twenty minutes in the same room for the past two weeks, except for my appointments with Vertes."

"Have you thought about apologizing?" Bling offered, "A woman likes to hear the words."

"I've tried, believe me. But Max refuses to hold still long enough for me to get the words out. Not that I really know what to say. I'm sorry she has to be around Vertes, but doesn't she know what this means to me?"

The answer was surprisingly straightforward and detailed for Logan Cale, who usually preferred to keep his emotions in a pretty box on the mantle, and Bling found himself more than slightly intrigued by it. Could that possibly mean that this was more than just one of their usual spats that occurred from a mixture of pure pig-headiness and repressed sexual tension?

"Have you told her?"

"Yeah, I tried to tell her the night she threatened to walk out on me once the treatments were over," Logan flung back, attacking the pot he was holding with a renewed vigor that countermined the steadiness of his tone.

Nodding to himself, Bling processed that piece of information, before carefully prodding: "Then maybe what she needs to hear is how much she matters to you. And it doesn't need to be some declaration of love, just let her know what her friendship means to you and that all this" he indicated Logan's upright position, "won't change what's between you two."

"She would have to stay still long enough for me to do that," Logan muttered, before throwing down the dish rag and turning to face Bling, "And before you start, I've tried everything I know to engender that. I offered to make her dinner and dessert, I suggested we hang out for the afternoon and go down to the market, I even asked to go to Crash but she just keeps blowing me off."

The frustration in Logan's voice was obvious, and it was all Bling could do to keep the internal smirk from surfacing – man sounded like a typical boyfriend or husband who was in the doghouse, a far cry from his usual high-minded Eyes Only lectures.

"The woman is pretty angry," Bling observed neutrally.

"Tell me about it. I thought being out of the wheelchair would let us get closer, do more things together, but so far I might as well be on a respirator for all the time we've spent together."

Logan's angry outburst instantly changed Bling's mood, and he did nothing to hide the frown that emerged at his patient's words.

The physical therapist had long been aware of his client's morose attitude toward his paralysis, but given everything that had happened recently, Bling was beginning to suspect how deeply skewed Logan's mindset really was. What had started out has an unhealthy focus on walking had deepened into a manic obsession, with signs of what Bling was realizing might be of clinical depression. The problem was, Logan was so damn insulated and self-reliant, it was difficult to get any real take on what was going on with him.

With a directness he usually kept hidden from his other patients, Bling firmly stated: "Hate to tell you this Logan, but Max would be far more likely to spend time with you on a respirator - since you wouldn't be pushing her aside for Eyes Only work. Hell maybe she figures with you up and around you don't need her anymore."

Not for the first time, Bling wondered what he needed to do to give Logan a wakeup call. Since the day they met he'd been trying to break through that wall, and though he'd gotten farther than others, he knew he was still miles away from bottom. It had occurred to Bling more than once that perhaps he wasn't the person for the job. That this case would take more than just a professional, it would take an expert cat burglar. With any luck, Max might be on top of it as they spoke, he realized. She certainly had Logan more roused than he'd ever seen him before. Hell, the man's kitchen was in shambles… Bling just hoped that the knock back to reality wouldn't be _too_ painful.

XXX

Logan frowned but didn't deny Bling's words. Instead, he continued the mental debate that had been raging in his brain for the past few days.

Part of being whole, Logan thought, was the benefit of being able to keep up with Max. However, the cure might unintentionally have cost him that prize. It was deeply frustrating that just when he thought he could get closer to her, emotionally and physically, she has become more intangible than when he was in the chair.

Logan wasn't a stupid man. Despite his idealistic notions he kept a practical eye on all of his endeavors. It was what which had allowed him to thrive as Eyes Only and what kept him safely protected as Logan Cale. But the night he had stood in front of Max, all practicality was thrown out the window as wild thoughts of passion and adoration had run unchecked through his mind.

When he had decided to surprise her by standing the thought had made him boyishly giddy. He couldn't wait to see her reaction, to share with her his excitement. But it hadn't gone as imaged. The moment he began to stand he felt himself invading the circle of her private space. He felt the heat from her body and the smell of her skin. The ability to be able to look down at her, to be taller than her, had sent a pulse of masculine awareness through him that reminded him of her soft tantalizing feminine body.

The wave of desire that had surged through him was nearly overwhelming. He remembered looking at her lips as the most erotic softness imaginable. He had wanted to bring those lips to his own, to part them and plunge in them to taste. That idea was consuming him as he met her eyes. His whole body was throbbing in response to her, including his heart.

She had done this, Logan had thought to himself then, all of it; she had allowed him to be able to walk; she had made him feel this way. He had a mad vision of completing and sating the impulses she created with her, that her body was the instrument of both his salvation and satisfaction. He wanted to do incredibly pleasurable things to her. To make her feel the fire inside him; to worship her with his mouth and hands. He wasn't aware of many conscious thoughts, just this incredible intensity and tension that had lasted until his body gave out from under him.

And abruptly those images had been put on hold, but not before he saw the responsive look in her eyes, and felt her body and hands brush against him.

He could do this, he had thought; he could make her want that – give her what she didn't even know she was missing. He just hated to wait; hated to wait for his body to catch up with his mind, once again.

That hadn't been the end of his fever. The energy and excitement punctuated by touches and breathes during their late-night ride had kept his imagination running. And he had reluctantly wished her goodnight.

When he made it to his bed his body had continued humming. Previously banned thoughts began to resurface with disturbing force. He could touch her; bury himself in her heat; show her what exactly it would feel like to entrust that flawless body of hers to someone who could really play it. And in return, he'd be everything to her that she'd never had. He break down her walls, push through the barriers – let her be young and carefree. He'd present to her all the comforts and luxuries of the world that she'd never had, spoiling her with his superfluous wealth.

And then his mind became truly treacherous as it began to make concrete plans for achieving his objectives. He'd go on that vacation she'd been telling him to take; he'd entice her to come along. Somewhere safe at first, close at hand. They'd do something physical like swimming or hiking, something he'd never have been able to do before to remind them both of what he could do now. He'd allow himself to let her get closer, the way he had wanted to in the past. To tell her some of the more intimate details of his life, and he would draw her out, get her to share with him, to trust him more. He would only subtly and casually touch her, nothing she could see as disrespectful or intrusive, but he'd remind her was now a whole man. He'd find a way to rekindle that powerful attraction they'd had at their first encounter and couple it with trust and safety.

The morning after they had first made love he'd make her breakfast in bed. Logan wondered if she'd ever had that before; he almost hoped not. It would be the first of many new things he would do for her. He would be there in the morning when she had her seizures; he'd hold her when she had those painful flash backs, and eventually he'd get her to tell him all of them. And he'd keep her sexually satisfied, by making love to her again and again.

Logan had allowed himself to pleasure himself to those images, and to fall asleep with a full heart. When he had awoken that next morning he had felt light and hopeful, but he made sure to get his fantasies back in check. The reality was he was still a dangerous, wanted man who was terrible with intimate relationships. Even if Max didn't mind the added risk that being Eyes Only made him, he still had an ex-wife, an ex-fiancée, and handful of failed relationships to support his theory that he was emotionally challenged. Besides… she didn't see him like that, not yet at least.

Whether or not he would have been able to keep his resolve of friendship the night of their celebration dinner he'd never know. Zack had effectively put a hold on it, and his relapse had squashed it.

But now, unbidden, the dreams came back. As did the joy. He was bubbling with delight at his returned faculties and was belatedly finding that she was the one he most wanted to share it with. And so the debate continued to rage between fantasy and reality, joy and depression, and humility and pride.

Although he never quite put the debate to rest, Logan found himself incapable of not trying to get close to her, to let his happiness bleed through and infect them both. But she wasn't willing to share it with him this time and slowly he began to acknowledge his own culpability in that.

The relapsed had triggered a deeply self-involved spiral into depression that he was only beginning to surface from. Some of his words from only a few weeks earlier echoed back with a callousness that made him wince. The forgotten basketball game, the business relationship with Vertes, the secrecy, the curt rejoinders to stay out of his business – what must she think of that?

He knew the rules of their dance. The steps were slow, slight, and careful, when someone gave a step backward the other graciously accepted it but didn't comment on it. Sometimes rebuffs were given when one touched a particularly tender place, but only until a new more careful approach could be found – and the sensitive one let his or her guard down.

However, to completely slam the door in the face of the other; to actively repress the green buds of caring, which is what Logan had done by hiding this from her, wasn't part of that dance. Not unless one of them wanted it to end.

And Logan didn't.

Breaking what Bling knew was probably a long internal digression, he asked, "Well what have you tried to fix this?"

Logan shook his head to clear it of his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. No matter what Max and him ended up being, he knew he needed to repair what had been broken by her hurt and subsequent anger. In other words, gain her forgiveness. Not an easy task for a Cale.

"The other afternoon, when she stopped off to give me a disk I needed her to grab for the Velancia case, I tried to tell her I'd always need her help. But I got about that far in the apology and she stopped me."

Bling crossed his arms; that seemed like a cop out to him. So he pressed: "Stop you? What did she do, yell at you?"

"Not exactly."

"Run away, laugh at you…"

"She gave some flippant remark about 9 feet being too high for a mere mortal to jump and then distracted me."

"Distracted how?"

"She needed to take a shower. Some guy cut her off on the way back and had sprayed mud over the front of her bike and her," Logan answered. It wasn't the first time Max had ended up covered in mud or worse for an Eyes Only mission, but previously Logan had been better at ignoring the little side effect.

Even now he could remember her eyes flashing and her storming off about road rage, and ticked off transgenic soldiers, and the stupidity of messing with her bike. In truth, Logan became a little preoccupied when she began to peel off her outer vest and announced she needed to get under some hot water before she blew a gasket. The last thing he recalled was her unceremoniously pronouncing she was going to use his shower whether he minded or not.

Shaking his head to clear it and get his mind back in the present, Logan noted the incorrigible smirk that was on Bling's face.

"What?! You have a beautiful woman tell you she's about to get naked in your shower, and then continue to rant about poor driving when she's in a towel and you tell me how coherent your thought process is," Logan hated the macho overtones to that speech, but he couldn't deny its validity.

"To another man, I would agree. But Logan, this is hardly the first time Max has been naked in your apartment."

When Logan didn't respond, Bling pushed. "Are you telling me you've never had those types of desires for her before?" Obviously incredulous.

"No, I'm not. It's just it was easier to ignore, easier to reason myself away from entertaining them too closely," Logan supplied, shocked that he bothered to answer.

"You do realize this has nothing to do with regaining sensation in your lower half and everything to do with your own messed up self-perception. Max has never seen you as anything but a man, not a wheelchair bound man, but a regular man."

"Maybe so, maybe it is all me, but I'll tell you what, regaining the use of my lower half has certainly made the ramifications of being attracted to her much more… noticeable. And all around more difficult to ignore, and not in just in the physical sense."

Logan was surprised by how good it felt to confide that information; it had been a while since he'd done so.

Bling chuckled slightly at that. "She's an observant lady, you'd better be careful so you don't end up like the teenage boy caught peeping in the girls' locker room."

"Tell me about it." Logan allowed himself to smile before returning to his usual serious tone. "But whether or not the adolescent in me agrees, I need to keep in mind the Max and I are friends, and I don't want to screw that up."

"Logan buddy, you know you have some deep underlying issues here, and not all of them having to do with your tempting cat-burglar. Walking is going to make them easier to ignore, but they're still there and you need to get real with yourself if you ever want to be satisfied with your life."

Bling knew his well-meant words of wisdom would probably be ignored, still sometimes even the most long-range shots hit their mark.

Just barely refraining from an eye-roll, Logan answered wryly, "I'll keep that in mind."

XXX

From the foyer, the sounds of Max's voice saying "knock, knock" could be heard.

"Yo Logan, we need to get a move on, I have places to go, people to see, and I want to get my babysitting duties over with," Max's voice was clipped with none of her usual underlying humor. Although she knew he'd been cooking, as she could smell it from outside, she'd steeled herself mentally from being lured into spending extra time with him. Food could fix Eyes Only missions gone awry, thoughtless dismissals, and annoyed words – but not this.

"Hey Bling," Max greeted him as she walked into the kitchen area, her voice noticeably warmer than before, "long time no see."

"I know, what have you been doing with yourself?" Bling smiled, partly enjoying the preferential treatment he's receiving in comparison to Logan, thinking, if this doesn't teach him, nothing will.

"You know, a little baby-sitting for sadistic Frankensteins here, a little running of Eyes Only all important errands there…the usual," Max kept her voice somewhat conversational but it's laced with stinging sarcasm. "What else are us genetically engineered soldiers good for anyway?"

Logan's gaze flickered up to hers, obviously stung, but with a noticeable effort he swallowed his words as he attempted a different approach.

"Hey, Max," Logan offered, hoping the tentativeness didn't show.

Max tilted her head in acknowledgement but didn't bother to respond verbally.

"Listen I was just cooking and I wanted your opinion on this new cream sauce I've just whipped up. It's sort of a modified version of that one we had a few weeks ago." He smiled at her, knowing she called it heaven on a plate.

"Think I'll pass, had something on the way, and we're running late," Max breezily stated.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? The appointment isn't until 6:30. Vertes had to postpone."

Max visibly tensed and Bling internally chuckled. Nice strategy, Logan, he thought, settling in to watch one hell of an amusing exchange.

"Well, I'd better get over there anyway. Wouldn't want the good doctor to have an earlier demise, and I've got a full tank of gas so we can go separately," Max fired back, this time a note of challenge in her voice.

"No point, she's running some errands and won't be back to her clinic for a little while. Personal stuff," Logan shrugged, turning back to his creation.

'And the ball is flung back into Max's court,' laughed Bling, enjoying his internal monologue that resembled a sports announcer.

"Fine." Max nodded. "So, Bling, how's Sandra doing? Is she enjoying her new position at the hospital?"

Bling answered, noting with amusement how Max's body language had subtly altered so that her back was now toward Logan, effectively blocking him out of the conversation. It was the beginning of her response, and he had the feeling it was going to be well played.

As their conversation progressed, Bling found himself giving a detailed description of his anniversary plans that he couldn't quite seem to break off. Max was good, he reminded himself, using him as a defensive barrier and wondering how Logan was going to get around it.

A sudden clamor which jarred them out of their conversation as Logan dropped the entire container of his kitchen utensils on the floor, was Bling's answer, if not Logan's solution.

Max waited a heartbeat behind Bling, so that he will be the one helping to clean the mess crawling around on the floor with Logan. The conversation had been broken, but Max was no closer to sharing a meal with them.

Bling thought it was a nice avoidance strategy until Logan stated:

"Hey Max, while we're doing this, could you go stir the pot? The one on the back left burner, thanks," and before waiting to hear her answer he turned back to the mess that Bling had no doubt was self-created.

After a few minutes, the part-bodyguard found himself needing to bite hard on the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing. The man had obviously thought this out, he noted, noticing the way Logan was moving slowly, deliberately taking long seconds to gather than things together and placing them in a specific order.

By the time they finally picked everything up and dumped it in the sink, Max had been stirring the tempting sauce for a solid minute. The smell had been somewhat contained with the lid on, but had risen to her nose and permeated her senses during the intervening time.

Knowing she was going to regret it, Max couldn't help but use the spoon to bring some of the precious sauce to her lips. "Mmmm" she murmured helplessly.

It was something she always did, tasted the sauce with the stirring spoon, and both Logan and her pretended that she didn't. But this time was different.

Logan walked the few steps to stand behind her, and asked in one of his low-velvety tones, "Good?"

Something about the question seemed so intimate that Bling suddenly wished he was anywhere but in this room. And from the way Max's back stiffened, she too felt the effects of the seduction Logan was exercising on her – at least the culinary seduction.

Max knew she'd been caught, and between the cologne and heat from Logan's body invading her personal space along with the delicious meal waiting to be eaten, she capitulated, to a point.

"Yeah, not bad. Guess I could woof some down," she conceded.

It wasn't a very gracious concession, but Bling figured it was still point to Logan. It was game he's have to pick up the score for later as the therapist noted that his own presence was becoming decidedly inappropriate. With only a few delays from Max, he left them to their foreplay.

XX

Usually, Max expressed an interest in the ingredients and where Logan scored them, but today she remained quiet, refusing to give him the opening he needed to take their conversation to the next level.

Therefore, it was incumbent on Logan to supply the small talk gamely, mentioning something about farmers market in sector five and good produce in sector 7. He was patiently biding his time until his next move.

It came from an unexpected angle, a surprise attack.

"You know I've really been lucking out at the markets lately." Logan began, turning to Max, "Too bad you haven't stopped by recently, because I scored up something kind of impressive."

Max warily makes eye contact before asking, not without a note of curiosity: "And what would that be?"

Rather than answering, Logan gave her a knowing half-smile and got up to walk over to the refrigerator. Removing a tray, he headed back, deliberately taking his time.

On top were delectable looking chocolate truffles that he extended to her. Her eyes watched the tray greedily and her fingers flexed slightly, but right before she could grab one, Logan pulled the tray from her reach.

"Not so fast," He smiled again, "These are my mother's recipe and her deal was if you took one, you had to share a story that happened during your day. A _pleasant_ story…"

Logan laid his hand on the table, with skill of a chess master. It was creatively played, creative and clever, as benefited the man who was Eyes Only.

When the tray had been removed, Max had glared up at Logan, only to have her eyes narrow slightly at his ultimatum. She knew what Logan was getting at, and the conversation he was looking to jump start. And before the Vertes situation she would have found his playful banter irresistibly charming and intriguing, signs of the joy-filled man she encountered near Elliot Bay. Then she would have willingly played along. But that scene, and the feelings inside Max as she'd let him pull her forward with the edge of a cane, had dissipated under their more recent interactions.

Now she saw manipulation behind his gestures, and Eyes Only, and (less forgivably) Logan Cale's own selfish agenda behind his reasons. Less the Logan behind her pasta tricalore and more the Logan behind the mirror seduction.

Still… trained soldier that she was, she knew how to get what she wanted by giving up as little as possible, and those little truffles were probably the most delectable treats she could image. It was worth the price he'd set.

"Fine," she curtly stated, taking a moment to think back over her morning. "Not that I have much of a life these days…" she glared at Logan who's eyes are twinkling, knowing Max usually couldn't hold onto her anger when she vented. "But there is this lead that Original Cindy got on some guy with a hot water tank. Apparently, it's decent size so it might serve for my entire building. It's a lot of loot, but I think together we could swing it."

She paused after the matter of fact retelling and couldn't help but add as she picked up one of the truffles, "You know it would be really nice if this works out, hot shower in my own building would be like heaven on earth."

Logan gave her a full smile, and began an offer to help, "You know if that guy doesn't work out…"

He never got a chance to execute his plan. Just as Logan started, Max took a bite of the dessert and let out what could only be described as moan of ecstasy, effectively commencing an attack that shut down all of Eyes Only's higher processing functions.

"God, Logan, that's good…" she murmured appreciatively before popping the rest in her mouth and closing her eyes to savor the flavor.

Logan had stopped dead in his tracks; his eyes were latched on to Max's face, particularly her lips.

As Max picked up another one, this time putting the entire thing in her mouth, her eyes returned briefly to Logan who was attempting to reign in his agitation by swallowing rapidly. She noticed his gaze lingering on her face and promptly scowled at his presumption.

Hastily, Logan got up, taking some dirty dishes back into the kitchen.

Maybe she didn't do it intentionally, but it was definitely game, set, match to Max.

XXXXXXX

**In the Aztec on the way to Vertes…**

Max shifted around awkwardly in the car. She had meant to take her motorcycle, but with the current gas shortage it was difficult to refuse Logan's suggestion that they should go together. Nevertheless, it didn't make being near him any less problematic. The silence was uncomfortable and it was difficult to ignore his scent.

The former soldier was having a difficult time maintaining her distance. Logan, even more than he had been letting on to Bling, had been going out of his way to get close to her, and Max found it taxing to remain focused on her anger.

And then there was the chemistry. They'd always had that "crackle" to their interactions; that intense awareness of each other on a physical level, but usually both of them struggled to contain it. Sometimes Logan was weak, more often than not it was Max. But inevitably one of them would come up reasonable and remind the other. Lately though, Logan seemed unwilling to act his role, and that made her uncomfortable.

Max had cooled off enough to realize she wouldn't simply abandon Logan when he became fully mobile, but she was a long way away from taking their relationship to the next level, especially since she wasn't sure she wanted to maintain their current one.

Sighing slightly, Max felt relieved that Dr. Vertes would soon be gone. Her presence acted like a dark shadow over her world, tainting everything, especially Logan, in its wake. In a way, the sessions continued to fuel the suspicion, anger, and mistrust Max currently felt toward Logan. Every time she was around the woman, flash backs to her time in Manticore plagued her, and consequently, images of Logan saying he needed the woman would surface to enrage her. It was a potent cycle they were locked in and Max just hoped that she could get through it without tipping her hand to Logan and letting him see more of her inner workings.

Whether or not she continued to work for Eyes Only, Max was determined to stop relating to Logan Cale.

When they finally got to Vertes' new place in Sector 3, she told Logan to go ahead while she cased the joint. She told him she needed to check and make sure no genetically enhanced soldiers were about, but in truth was it was more to straighten out her feelings and put on her game face on before confronting Vertes.

If the situation with Logan wasn't enough, Vertes had also continued to be a problem in her own regards. Although she didn't know why, Max suspected the woman was itching to start something with her. And if that were the case, Max would be ready.

XXXXXXX

**Vertes' office…**

"Afternoon, doctor," Logan greeted Vertes.

Thanks to Cale money and connections, the new office was much nicer than the one from their previous meetings with blue, shiny tile floors and institute white paint that showed water stains only in a few corners. It made everything seem more sanitary, and certainly would help keep the doctor protected if Jace was somehow traced or Manticore decided to pick up the cold trail.

However, Logan knew those weren't the primary reasons behind his move here. Instead, he'd needed to get away from the run-down space that had haunted his conscience each of the two times he'd entered it after the encounter with Jace. Every time he glanced at the silver table, he saw the dead rat; every time Vertes murmured something health-related he saw the small baby outfits that Jace had been holding during the scene, and perhaps more than anything else he saw the burning look of anger and… something in Max's eyes when he'd stopped her from throwing Vertes out on her ass.

No way he could continue to be treated there.

"Hello." The attractive but icy blond woman answered in her soft monotone voice, "and where pray tell is my ubiquitous bodyguard?"

Logan hesitated momentarily; he didn't like the way she referred to Max, "_Max_ is making sure everything is safe."

"Hmm… nice to see her doing what she's good at. Must be nice to have an X5 as your personal lap dog. Must make running errands so convenient."

As the weeks had passed, Logan had noted the increasingly insinuating way the woman discussed and talked about Max. It was subtle at first, but there was no doubting now that Vertes was implying that Max was less than human.

"Listen," Logan gritted out, "you may think that because you worked at Manticore structuring the X series on a genetic level that you have some idea what makes up Max. But let me assure you, you can't possibly have any idea of who and what she really is. Because what those like you don't get is that while you were busy trying to build the perfect soldier, she and her siblings somehow figured out how to be better human beings than any of you."

The impassioned declaration felt good, better than anything Logan had said to the woman in a long time, though if he'd been honest he'd been thinking the words from the moment he began to understand Max.

"Well if that's your sentiment maybe you don't want to associate with someone like me," Vertes answered back, obviously unfazed.

Logan hesitated, knowing how much he needed this woman's cooperation, and he hated himself for it.

Vertes added sneeringly, "Guess I'm not so bad when what I know helps you to walk."

The accusation hit something deep inside Logan's core, and again he felt the crushing weight of his conscience demanding attention, but before he could respond, Max entered the room, effectively ending the conversation. For now, he'd have to let the words hang over the room, taunting him even as his legs responded to the treatment.

Max was silent, stony even, as she prowled the office. She didn't openly watch Logan's session, but he knew intrinsically that she was aware of everything that was going on – that she noted that he was readily and consistently able to move the pedals where once he struggled to move them an inch.

The thought made his heart swell; even when she was angry with him, she watched over him. She never let down her vigilance during the entire double-long session. And as Logan detached the now familiar instrumentation that monitored his leg movement and strength, he reasoned he needed to do something for her so that she would know the same about him. That he would have her back and be there for her no matter what…

That was his last thought, before all hell broke loose.

As Logan prepared to wish Vertes good night, the woman had turned to Max who was watching from the corner.

"Before you go, I wanted to have a short conversation with Max."

"What about?" Max automatically asked. "Wanna reminisce about 'the good old days'?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, Vertes continued, "I have some questions regarding the outcome of your genetic structure that you could easily answer for me. The questions are no more intrusive than those you might receive at a yearly checkup."

Despite her response, Logan felt the icy claws of foreboding settle over the room. This wasn't going to end well, and all three of them knew it.

"Doctor," Logan interrupted. "I hardly think this is the right time and the place; particularly given what the external factors are."

"Perhaps," Vertes acknowledged, "But since I can't get her alone to discuss the matter, I'll have to use what opportunities I have."

"I don't think that would be wise on your part," Max replied tensely, alternating her posture slightly to reflect the detection of the threat.

"Maybe not, but I remember your unique genetic pattern and would like some follow-up. After all, I helped to create you."

"What do you want? Me to call you mommy or something?" Max bit out, hoping to throw the woman off whatever game she was playing.

The woman refused to be baited, and continued in what Max saw as an infuriatingly calm manner, "No, but I do have vested scientific interest in the results of your feline DNA." She paused before going a place neither Logan nor Max had anticipated: "Tell me. How are your monthly cycles? Do you menstruate normally?"

Max's reply was sharp and unequivocal: "Screw you!"

If it were possible, Max bristled like a cat; her attack shield in high alert as the woman probed a place of great shame and embarrassment.

"Max!" Logan jumped in to defuse the situation, "Listen, Dr. Vertes, I don't think having a private conversation about Max's reproductive system is the best way to engender her continued protection. Nor is it a way to continue our financial arrangement."

If threats were the only way to get through to this woman, Logan reasoned, then so be it.

"Maybe so," stated the doctor, "I can't image that being reminded of one's less human qualities is something Max wants brought up around you."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean," growled Max, her body unintentionally slipping into attack mode.

"Just that it can't be easy to maintain certain intimate relationships when they find out. And there is that little side effect isn't there? We've seen it in a few of the others." There was the tiniest bit of gloating to Vertes voice, as she continued to discuss Max's private issues in a clinical and condescending manner.

Max picked up the reference to Logan as her lover, she understood the condescension, but she also heard the glimmer of answers to questions she had never been able to ask anybody.

"Aren't the rest of your lab rats built like me?" Max's asked, unable to stop herself.

"No, I believe Jace, for example, didn't have the same DNA sequence in her cocktail. Her cycles were more…human."

Max backed away from the scene swallowing hard. It was one of her deepest anxieties – that she might not be able to have children, to be a mother and a woman in that way – though it was something that she refused to acknowledge consciously.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." She denied. Max was distinctly aware of Logan's presence and felt outmaneuvered and outflanked by her enemy, understanding exactly why the other woman had chosen this location.

Logan began to get up to go to her, aware that Max was visibly upset, and instantly concerned that the short questions had thrown her so strikingly.

"Max, are you okay? Vertes, you need to cut this out before…"

Never removing her eyes from Max, Vertes pressed forward, ignoring Logan, and now audibly taunting Max: "Maybe you do, may you don't. It's a shame you won't be forth coming; I'd dearly love to know how you turned out… We had a bet going."

Before Logan could verbally react, Max lunged forward and grabbed Vertes by the neck, using her knowledge of the human anatomy to apply pressure on her sensitive throat.

"You twisted psychos." She yelled, enjoying watching the placid expression turn to one of pain.

Logan quickly strode forward, grabbing Max's forearm to gain her attention.

"Max, let go! This is what she wants, to goad you."

Max's eyes slide from Vertes to Logan and abruptly she dropped her hand and turned her back as she stepped away.

Sputtering, Vertes accused:" Too much animal DNA!"

Logan turned a murderous gaze on Vertes: "That's it; I think we're through here. You can take you equipment and…"

"And what? I'm your only hope of continuing to walk, and that's what you want, right? To walk? They were created to help with things like that; to serve as research opportunities."

Logan's retort was interrupted by Max who suddenly turned around. Her eyes cold and detached. "Yeah, that's what he wants. More than anything."

"Max! That's not true." Logan stammered, finally realizing how she has interpreted his words the other night.

"It's okay, Logan. It can't be easy for her, you know," turning the conversation away from him, "being around me, knowing what I am and what she's done to me." Max's tone was calm, cajoling and awful.

The conversation had shifted and it's obvious that Max was on the attack now, winding up to strike.

"I mean can you image what it must have been like for her?" Her voice filled with feigned concern, and Logan knew that Max was attacking a perceived weak point. "Tell me, doctor, was it easy to think of us like _things_ or did you find yourself slipping and thinking of us like children," there is a predatory glint in Max's eyes, but her question was voiced to sound sincere.

Vertes didn't answer at first, but eventually replied, "We were doing research for diseases prevention and treatment."

"I know, doctor; I'm sure you kept telling yourself that, but you know we all looked pretty human, feel pretty human. Did it bother you when we bled, that our blood was the same color as other kids'… 'cause we did bleed, you made sure of that."

Max's voice was low and dangerous, almost coaxing, as she continued. "Course it helped that we didn't cry; didn't it? Did you know why we didn't cry?"

"Stop it," Vertes stammered, obviously disturbed, "it was years ago."

"We didn't cry because they'd beat us if we did; restrict our rations; put us in solitary confinement. We were soldiers, soldiers don't cry, don't show emotion."

"We did what we thought was right…" Vertes responded, but her voice was quaking and she was backing up from Max's onslaught.

Max didn't acknowledge her words, but continued, "You know we wanted to cry though? I remember this time when you broke my left leg; right about here," Max indicated a spot right above her knee, "where you sawed through the flesh and then snapped the femur. I waited to cry, I waited until I thought everyone was gone and no one would hear how weak I was. I was seven, by the way."

Max's voice never wavered, never sped up; it was if she's having a pleasant chat about the weather…

"Did you know I thought I was being punished for not performing my command drills fast enough? Were you punishing me, doctor?" There was a carefully crafted infantile quality to her voice.

Vertes had already run into the side of the examining chair trapping her, her eyes were wild, and briefly they met with Logan's stunned ones before turning back to Max.

"I…"

"It's okay, doctor. I don't have a scar or anything, not a physical one at least, you designed us like that."

"Yes we designed you like that, as…as" she took a swallow of air.

"I am what you made me." Max gave her an awful smile, "Tell me, doctor, what does that say about you? If I'm the soulless animal you think I am, if I'm nothing but a beast, a thing meant for experimentation, then why didn't you design me without pain? Without thoughts? Without feelings? Surely that would have been more efficient. Why did you have to beat it out of us; to torture us again and again until we responded like the drones you wanted? Tell me doctor, because I've always wanted to know."

"I wasn't the one who did that," exclaimed Vertes.

"But you see, doc… you were." Max gave her another menacing smile. "It was you, through you active and inactive participation; you know it, and you know that I know it. And you hate me for it. You hate yourself. And you know what… you should."

Leaving a stunned Vertes behind, Max turned to leave.

She nearly made it to the door when Logan finally caught up to her. Half-running, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him.

"Max, I didn't know; I'm so sorr…" His voice was like nothing she's ever heard before, desperate and filled with emotion, and so she cut him off immediately.

"It's fine, Logan; I'm fine, didn't you hear? I was built that way."

"_Max_," he tried again, sliding his hands into her hair to caress her, desperate to be near and comfort her.

But Max didn't respond visibly.

"Listen Logan, you want to do me a favor? Then you need to go back there and finish your treatment. I haven't put up with this much static to have you bail now."

"Max…." but he doesn't know what to say.

"I mean it; if you don't want me to go X5 on your ass you'd better get back there; I will never forgive you if you make my little story the reason you end up back in a wheelchair. I won't have that on my conscience."

Looking deeply in her eyes, he nodded. She stared back at him making sure he was serious.

Then she removed his hands from her face and walked away, leaving a fair amount of devastation in her wake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers.**

Logan sat at his window, just as he did so many times before from his wheelchair. His eyes were troubled and a phone lay in his lap.

It wasn't until he heard the floor squeak that he turned and looked behind him. Standing there was Max, hand on hip, a detached look in her eyes.

"You paged me?"

"Yeah, wasn't sure if you'd answer."

"Well here I am. What do you want?"

Logan's eyes were sad as he took in her defiant posture and aloof air. "To apologize." He stated simply.

"Spare me, Logan, I don't want to hear about how sorry you are for my traumatic upbringing."

"It's not that Max, or at least not just that. Hearing what you went through, to really hear some of the gory details, I mean it's…"

"Disgusting?" she offered.

"Enraging, heart-wrenching. I'd like nothing better than to help it go away, to help you get past it, to be there for you…" his eyes blazed ever so slightly as he looked at her, "not to bring something into your world that reminds you. Let alone taunts you and hurts you."

"She didn't hurt me," Max denied, challenging him to say otherwise.

"Max…" Logan began, but doesn't attempt to contradict her, "I'm not sure what she was getting at with her comments, but it was obvious she was trying to dehumanize you. But she couldn't, you're better than her. Max, more human, more everything."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Logan, is that all?"

Needing to get close physically since he couldn't do so emotionally, Logan attempted to get up and go to her. But she jerked away from his reach.

Balling up his hands so he wouldn't try that again, Logan continued: "You should never have been in that position in the first place, Max, and for that I'm so very sorry.

"Apology noted, are you done?"

"Not yet, just hear me out, Max. Today has forced me to see something I've been trying to hide from. The reality of my actions, the things I've done."

Rolling her eyes, Max answered curtly, "You're fine, Logan, I'm a big girl. I can take it."

"It's not just to you, Max, although certainly it is you that I've hurt the most. But I've built my life on this moral high ground. I've built an entire separate identity devoted to catching and exposing criminals who care about nothing but their own needs, whether those are money, power, or influence. These people don't care who they have to hurt or what they have to do to get what they want, what they think they need and deserve. I've convinced others to risk their lives and the lives of their families to help me stop those people. Some people have died; others have been tortured. Me, I was just wounded."

"Logan…" Max tried to interject, knew where this was headed. If truth be told she had known it for a long time, and she didn't want to hear it. Not anymore.

"I should have known there was no difference between those people I despise and myself. I've defied nature; I've used my wealth and influence to get what I wanted - I've hurt those I care for… I hurt you Max, who I owe everything to." His voice didn't waver; it was firm and strong, sincere in its conviction. It reminded her of what it was about this man that touched her, as well as what it had been missing only two weeks before when he had shocked her with his actions.

Max didn't attempt to interrupt him this time, but continued to look at him with hard eyes.

"I could sit here and tell you how much I hate myself for that, but I know how meaningless words are. I want you to know I'm sending Vertes away, tomorrow morning, and that I'll do everything I can to make this up to you. "

"That's all sorts of noble Logan, but stupid. How many treatments do you have left with Vertes?"

"Max, it doesn't matter." He replied, sure that he deserved this punishment, of coming so close only to lose it. However, seeing her determination he answered her question. "Five."

"Now you tell me Logan, Eyes Only, Cale how being a martyr to your guilt, and giving up your chance to walk is going to help the downtrodden?"

Their eyes clashed and Logan knew what she was implying.

"You're right. It won't. It will only appease my own conscience."

"Bingo." Max bit off sarcastically, "Now I'm not going to stand here and tell you it's all good. That you weren't a selfish asshole, and that my opinion of you hasn't changed."

Logan visibly flinched.

"But just maybe knowing you owe your legs to evil geniuses who attempted to kill babies and experiment on children will give you a little more perspective. I'm not telling you to be more driven, because you're already crazy as is, but I'm telling you that the difference between light and dark; between vigilante and soldier isn't as defined as it seems. I know this because I constantly have to remind myself that I'm not a killer; not because I haven't killed or that I'll never kill again, but because I chose not to do so unless it's life or death; that if given the choice I'd rather be riding my motorcycle, or taking a bath, or kicking it with my friends. Now that you're up on your feet maybe you can remember that it's not what you've done, but what you live for that matters."

The glimmer of tears could be seen in both their eyes.

Swallowing hard, Logan attempted to reach out for her again, "Max, what I want…"

"I can't do this now, Logan," Max quickly stated as she again turned away. And still he followed, unable to let her go at that.

"I don't mean to push. But I need to know you'll be able to forgive me; to let me be your… friend again."

Turning around partly, Max affirmed: "It will take time, but yeah, I'm still your friend; your legs too if you still want them."

The concession felt good, even if Max knew it hadn't magically fixed everything.

"Max, if you're continuing with Eyes Only because of your own guilt…"

"I'm continuing because it's something else to live for."

Logan nodded.

"Listen, I need to blaze; I'm meeting the gang at Crash tonight. Give me a call to let me know how the treatment goes, or if you have an assignment."

He watched her rapidly depart and softly said to her retreating form: "Bye, Max."

Turning his eyes back to the city skyline, Logan came to realization that a lot more than just "his legs" were going with her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Crash**

_Original Cindy and Max were playing fooze ball as the scene opens on them mid-conversation._

"So the boy apologized," Cindy summarized, "About time."

"Whatever," replied Max, "I just can't wait for this all to be over so I can get back to having a normal life. Well normal for me anyway…"

"Far be it from me to overstep your boundaries, boo," Original Cindy began, "but have you ever thought of getting some personal drama of your own?"

"What do you mean?" Max asked distractedly, as she drove the ball through Cindy's goal.

"Well seems to Original Cindy that everything you do is a part of someone else's problem: Miracle Boy's legs; your brother's control issues; Sketchy's latest scheme. Heck, even the black helicopter boys are just involving you in their own twisted plans. It does a person good to know they've got their own self-created problems."

Max laughed at Cindy's interpretation of life. "And what do you suggest?"

"I don't know, maybe some men trouble. And nothing too serious or involved neither. Always seems to work for the other hetero females I see. And might teach former roller boy a thing or two about how to treat you."

Max rolled her eyes, but stated: "I'll think about it, OC."

"You do that and in the meantime let's figure out how I can talk to my potential lickity chick."

The two friends smiled at one another before crossing over the bar to get another pitcher of beer.

XXXXXXXXXXX

**Space Needle voiceover…**

_Maybe Cindy's right, maybe I need to stop neglecting my own strange little life and make sure I have something to fight for. _

_Problem is, I've gotten kinda use to fighting for Logan Cale's personal army. Almost felt like we were sharing our screwed up existences. _

_Maybe he's right, maybe it was easier for me when he was in the chair. At least then I knew where we both stood…_

_Fade to black…._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Okay, ladies and gents here's the deal. I've been working on this story a long time – off and on since April – and it was my original intention to split these "episodes" into smaller chapters in order to engender both interest and reviews. However, Lisa, my wonderful beta, has made the case that these episodes read better as one long unit. For the time being, I've conceded to her judgment and chosen a unified story structure. If you agree with her assessment, may I recommend reviewing to reward (or chastise) my efforts. That includes you… person who adds me to your story alert list but never reviews, or, you, lurker without an account who doesn't realize the importance of responses (I've been both), and even, you, supposed ML hater who clandestinely reads our stories (okay, I'm reaching on that one :-)… Please take the extra few minutes. And that's all I'll say about that, promise!

**Thank you for the reviews from last chapter, and, as always, thanks to Lisa my stalwart beta!**


	3. Episode 3 Love in a Wheelchair

**A/N: The contents of this episode might not sit well with some shippers (author shrugs). Nevertheless, I reserve the right to create trials and tribulations for the characters involved as my imaginative right. Surely the Raffer storyline of "Meow" gives me creative license to do some slightly painful things. But in case there is doubt, I am still undeniably ML.**

**XXXXX**

**Episode 3 - Love in a Wheelchair**

_The scene opens with Max on a doorstep in her Jam pony gear. She's obviously delivering a package, with her mind half-way elsewhere._

"Jam pony messenger." Max stated in her routine way. As the door swung the entire way open her eyes slide down to a handsome young man in a wheel chair. "I need a signature."

"Yeah sure…" the young man stated, and although he reached up to take the clip board his eyes never leave Max's face.

He doesn't attempt to write his signature and the pause that ensues annoys Max.

"You going to sign for that thing or do I need to send out a search and rescue mission to get my clip board back?" Her voice contained her usual sarcasm, with only a hint of amusement.

As if just realizing that he's been staring the man jumped and stated: "Sorry… listen I think we've met before…"

Max snorted ever so slightly, thinking it's going to be one of those runs.

"Yeah? Can't say I recall. If you'll excuse me a need to go back to my job."

"Max…" the man remembered, and Max finally took a closer look at him. He was around her age, with dark eyes and hair and a fair complexion. He hadn't quite lost his boyishness and that coupled with his more gentle features made him look artful, nearly pretty in his good looks.

He continued, "I remember seeing you once or twice at our basketball games. Weren't you meeting up with Logan Cale?"

"Yeah that's right," Max answered, her voice softer now that she knew he wasn't some jerk attempting to hit on her. "You guys have game."

"I remember thinking the same thing about Cale when you met up with him," the guy gave Max a wide, charming smile. "My name's Kurt, Kurt Stormer."

"Yeah Kurt, well Logan and I aren't like that," Max replied automatically. "And I don't mean to be rude, but think you could sign for that package?"

"Sure thing!" Kurt looked down momentarily to sign, but as he held out the clipboard his eyes once again sought out Max's. "Listen, I don't mean to be forward or anything. But if you and Logan really aren't together, I'd love to take you out to coffee sometime…"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**Jam Pony**

"And you said what?" Original Cindy asked Max. The two women were sitting on the bench by their lockers as Max recollected the scene that just transpired.

"To my surprise, I said sure." Max shrugged, obviously uncertain of what to think.

"And you did that because…" O.C. didn't bother to hide her amusement.

"Because it was such a normal way to be asked out. I mean there was no cheesy pick up lines, no lewd looks, and he made sure I wasn't dating his peep before he asked…. It was just…" Max stuttered for words.

"Nice." Cindy finished for her.

"Yeah, nice."

"Well, Sugar, if anyone deserves an evening of normalcy it's you. When's this thing going down?"

"Mm…" Max replied distractedly, before replying. "He said he'd give me a call sometime soon."

Cindy summed up her friend's face and then decided to ask the million dollar question: "So are going to tell miracle boy about your date with the new roller boy?"

Max paused before answering, as if considering.

"I don't see why I should; I mean not unless he asks or something. Besides, we haven't been spending much time together lately anyway." Max hedged.

"And whose fault is that?" Cindy inquired, well aware of the answer.

"Logan made his choice. He wanted a life free of the chair, no matter what it cost, and he got it."

"So why are you trying to up the price on him?" Cindy determinedly asked.

"What you mean?"

"I mean, why are you trying to make the price of his walking be you?" Cindy bluntly inquired. " Listen boo, I know that this Vertes bitch reminds you of the baddies from your childhood, but what was Logan suppose to do – give up his chance to be up and around because she ain't no saint? If you ask me, you have some overly high standards for that boy, and you're just pissed that he didn't meet them."

"Whatever…" Max replied, but the look on her face suggested that Original Cindy had hit a nerve.

Before the conversation can progress any further, Max's beeper went off, signifying the end of their conversation and a whole new batch of issues for Max to deal with.

"Wonder who that is?" Cindy teased, her eyes thoughtfully taking in Max's undecided face before prodding: "Go answer the man before he sends out a search party."

Max didn't bother to affirm whether or not she was going to return Logan's page, but that didn't bother Original Cindy. Instead, the stalwart friend chuckled to herself as she watched Max grab a package that she was pretty sure was going to sector nine, thinking this was going to interesting…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Logan's apartment.**

Scene opens with Logan at his computer attempting to do research. It becomes clear that he's distracted as his eyes keep moving from the screen to the phone beside him. And he jumps slightly when a familiar voice suddenly announces from his office door:

"You paged?"

"Hey Max," he couldn't help but smile at her, though his tone indicated that he was less than sure of her mood. "Long time no see."

Pushing off from the door frame, Max crossed to stand closer to Logan.

"Yeah well, I've been spending some quality time with my peeps now that the good doctor is out of town."

There's a note of hostility to her voice that doesn't go unnoticed by Logan.

"Max, about that… I know you devoted a lot of time to all this and I just wanted to say thank you, and I'd like to make it up to you. Are you still interested in taking a wilderness excursion? I know we talked about it briefly before the stuff with Vertes became heavy and…"

Max's beeper suddenly went off, effectively ending Logan's speech. A fact he tried to not let annoy him, even though it had taken a few days to work up the guts to ask her something so… intimate.

She had been so distance lately, so cold that he'd realized he needed to make some grand gesture if he were ever to get back on friendly footing.

Expression neutral, Logan watched as Max pulled her beeper out of her pocket to look at it, a slight frown marring her forehead.

"Work?" Logan asked.

"I don't recognize the number," Max ruminated, perplex. Unknown numbers were always a cause for alarm in her world, and silently she tried to think if Original Cindy was planning on calling her from somewhere to do lunch. "Can I use your phone?"

"Of course."

As Max picked up the phone and began to dial, Logan's eyes refused to turn back to the computer screen and instead follow a vertical path up and down Max's body. His eyes were filled with longing, though the look wasn't totally sexual. He missed her, and the combination of physical and emotional want caused him to swallow hard.

It was only when she began to speak that he was able to snap away from his reflections and return his eyes to the screen.

"Hey, it's me."

There was a slight pause.

"Oh… hey. Didn't expect you so soon."

It wasn't her words, but the tone of her voice that caused Logan to once again focus on her. Her usually aggressive attitude had become friendlier at the unknown person on the other line, and when she shifted her body slightly, almost as if turning away from him, Logan began to listen to the conversation in earnest, aware of how unusual it was for her to hide something like this from him.

"No, it's cool…. Nah I don't think tomorrow would freak me out, but you know I gotta work. Friday would be aiight."

Although he can't see her face, Logan knew there was a hint of a smile playing in the corners of her lips, and a small bubble of illogical jealousy burst deep in his gut.

"Yeah, that would work…. No, I've never been there before….. We'll I'm not one to turn down a good muffin…" she laughed a bit. "Okay, see you then, bye."

As she hung up the phone, her eyes met with Logan's and something reflected in them that he couldn't quite identify.

"Someone you knew, I take it." Logan ventured, wanting information but determined not to ask directly.

"Yeah. So what were you talking about before?" Max inquired.

Logan knew she was deflecting, but decided to let it go. Now was not the time to call her out on their ever going dance; now was the time to get their rhythm back.

"I was saying that a vacation might be in order. Perhaps a trip hiking in the Cascades – you game?"

Although it was casually said, Max knew what he was trying to do and part of her wanted to respond positively, aware of how difficult it was for him to reach out. However, letting him back in was going to take time. He'd hurt her more than anyone had in a very long time, and she wasn't ready to forgive just yet.

"Logan…" Max began, ready to tell him to give her space, to put him off for another day. But he preempted the excuses he knew she would try and give.

"Listen, nothing intense, just some hiking, fresh mountain air, s'mores…"

She smiled at that. It did seem nice, just as it had before everything had gone all topsy turvy.

"Maybe…" Max gave in slightly, "Let me think about it."

"Would it entice you at all if I suggested we could use my family's cabin?" Logan asked, giving her a charming smile.

He could be so persuasive when he tried, so utterly captivating. And after the months of doleful solitude and single-minded focus on work, it was difficult not to respond to his vigor.

"Logan Cale, using your wealthy family connections to appease the anger of a woman. I thought that went against the moral code." Max teased, despite her resolve.

He smiled back, "Not if the woman in question is worth it."

God, thought Max, he's giving me that look; the one where he looks partially like a mischievous boy and the other like a sensual man. It did things to her, as did his words that hinted at the undercurrent of emotion that existed between them. He wasn't fighting fair, and it threw Max off her balance.

When she didn't respond immediately, Logan took the opportunity to continue his appeal.

"Come away with me this weekend. We'll relax, enjoy ourselves. I'll cook." His voice was smooth and deep as he tried to entice her. He could feel her begin to give in, and he wasn't beyond using whatever means necessary to gain his objective. She was, most definitely, worth it.

Max could feel her control slipping. She missed him, his company and conversation. And getting out of Seattle was very appealing. But just as she was about to agree, she remember the phone conversation she had, not more than five minutes ago.

Leave it to Logan to make her forget everything in a second.

"Can't. I have plans."

"Max." Logan's voice was slightly exasperated and Max realized he must think she was blowing him off for made up plans with friends, like she had been for the past few weeks.

"I'm serious Logan. That's what I was just doing on the phone, making plans for Friday afternoon."

"Coffee." She explained, when she saw his skeptical look.

"Well than that'll work out great. You can have brunch and then we'll head out early afternoon," Logan responded, surprised at his own insistence. He'd found that days that had stretched into weeks of her avoidance had begun to make him impatient and bold. He wasn't use to waiting when he wanted something.

"I don't think that would be right," Max stated, thinking carefully about what she should say. It was sort of a delicate situation, and as usual, she felt ill-equipped to handle it.

"Why? What wouldn't be right?" Logan questioned, figuring he was painting her into a corner.

"It's just I don't think it'd be right to make plans for the earlier afternoon with someone, and then spend the weekend with someone else." Max hedged, trying to be purposely vague.

Logan chuckled at the absurdity of that idea. He must be getting to her, he thought, if her excuses were getting so implausible.

"Why? Do you think Original Cindy is going to get possessive on you?" Logan joked.

"I'm not meeting with Original Cindy." Max quickly responded, "Or the Jam Pony gang" she added.

Logan raised an eyebrow in expectation and Max briefly considered making up an excuse and leaving, but didn't want to draw attention to the situation.

"Just somebody I'm getting to know," she shrugged, trying to keep it casual.

Then it dawned on him. Not someone, some _guy_.

"Is it a date?" Logan blurted out, before he could stop himself, unable to keep the shock out his voice.

Max shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the next.

"It's just coffee." Max stated, as if that explained everything.

It was a date, Logan realized, and his mouth snapped closed and he turned his eyes back to his computer screen as he attempted to process his wheeling thoughts and emotions.

Max bristled slightly, but whether or not it was because he sounded surprised or that she felt guilty, she couldn't be sure.

"Anyway," Max continued as she began to walk away from his office and over toward his kitchen, "I'm going to have to take a rain check on the whole hiking dealio."

Max began to rummage in his refrigerator, adding: "Got anything to eat?"

She was hoping that the destruction she was doing to his orderly fridge would distract him from the conversation at hand.

It didn't.

Quickly Logan had followed her into the kitchen, faster than he could have when in the chair or when limping. It startled her slightly to feel his eyes on her back before she could regain her composure.

"Is he someone special, or did you just meet?" Logan inquired, a neutral cadence to his voice though there was also something very pointed in the question.

Max turned around, summing Logan up, trying to see if he was really determined to hash this out. The unwavering stare of his eyes was challenging her to answer back, so she did.

"Just met. Well, just met formally…" Max corrected, "on a run" she added to let him know that not only was she going to meet him in this stupid pissing contest, she was going to best him.

"Really? Didn't know you made a point of letting customers pick you up, he must have been pretty charming."

"He was nice, actually. Just straightforward and honest in his attraction… it was a pleasant change."

"Nice." Logan repeated, as if rolling the word around his mouth to see how it tasted and finding it lacking in flavor. "Nice isn't the most descriptive word, but it's probably hard to tell that much about a guy when he's signing for a package."

His patronizing tone annoyed her, and made her answer boldly back: "Sometimes it's easier to read one guy in five minutes than another guy in five months."

"Hmmm… sounds kind of dull if you don't mind me saying. I like women like wine, complex in flavor," he stated, not backing down a bit. "I mean otherwise, where's the challenge?"

"Straight-up dating presents its own challenges." Max answered, piqued.

"I thought you said it was just coffee?"

"Not _just_ coffee, but coffee."

Logan knew he should stop, but didn't. "So does that mean a cup of joe or the possibility of further… interactions?"

"Guess I'll just have to see where it goes."

"Sure, maybe it'll be _nice_."

Max gritted her teeth at his wordplay, and decided to best him, so she took a cheap shot.

"Besides - it's not the first time we've met. He's actually one of your peeps."

It was sort of like a nuclear explosion went off in Logan's brain. All he could picture were the smug, slick society guys that he had grown up with hitting on a compliant, smiling Max. It did things to his equilibrium.

"Didn't think bored, rich guys were you thing."

Max smiled slightly. She heard the anger in his voice and knew his control was slipping.

"I didn't say your country-club crowd," Max taunted, refusing to give him more. She was going to make him ask.

"I don't recall introducing you to anybody from the informant net, which are pretty much the only people I've been hanging out with lately." Logan returned, knowing he was losing their match and not caring in the slightest.

"What about your basketball crew?" Max stated, her hand on her hip. She had a feeling this was going to get interesting.

"Who?" Logan asked, anger suddenly purged, his brain reeling with the implications of her comment. After a moment he asked, confused: "You mean the guys down at the park?"

"Yeah, do you remember a guy named Kurt? Young guy, dark haired, brown eyes."

"In a wheelchair," Logan finished.

"Yeah, well he could hardly play your game without wheels," Max answered in an amused tone, a stunned Logan Cale was a rare event.

"Max. He's in a wheelchair," an annoyed Logan repeated.

"So?"

"So, it may come as a shock to you, but wheelchair bound-guys aren't up for pity dates." Logan snapped.

"Excuse me?!" Immediately Max's eyes narrowed, her tone becoming dangerous.

"Listen Max, you may think you're doing a good thing here, but let me assure you, this kid isn't looking for charity."

Max paused before answering, unsure of what to be most pissed at.

"This may come as a shock to _you_, Logan, but not everybody sees being in a wheelchair as the equivalent of being dead. A cute face and a _nice_ personality can score a guy a date no matter what his mode of transportation. And let me assure you, I don't do pity." Her voice ended in a near sneer.

"Max, have you really considered what goes into a paraplegic's spinal cord injury?" Logan softened his voice, sure that while her intentions might be noble she was obviously clueless. "It affects a lot more than just legs."

This time Max crossed her arms in front of her chest, cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow before answering, "From what I've read it means different things for different people. In regards to boys and their _abilities_… Well, a few guys retain their automatic functions, including sensation, and simply lose the ability to move. Some retain their reactions but lose the sensation. Most lose all control of their lower extremities, needing to rely on certain 'equipment' to keep things running smoothly. It usually has to do with the level of his injury, whether or not it's above T12 or between S2 and 4 and whether the break is complete or not. But as far as I've heard, all keep control of their mouths and fingers." Max bluntly finished challengingly.

Logan wasn't sure what threw him more, her attitude or her use of the proper vernacular.

"Max. The realities are different than theory." He finally stated.

"Wouldn't know," Max responded, "But I'll keep you updated on how it goes."

Logan opened and closed his mouth as Max gave him one more derisive look before stalking out of the apartment.

The battle lines were drawn.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Max and Cindy's apartment…**

"So…" Cindy casually stated, as she rummaged through Max's closet. "I have to ask if you're aware of the potentially screwed up nature of this dealio?"

"What are you talking about?" Max demanded, holding up two different shirts and internally running through the merits of wearing one or the other.

"Listen Boo, I know we're not making reference to a certain newly-walking, rich boy, but there are certain…parallels… that you might want to think about."

"Like Kurt is in a chair." Max snapped.

"I'm not saying it's a big deal," Cindy held up her hands in truce, "but certain people might be inclined to say you either have a fetish for wheels or that you're giving Logan his poetic come-upings. And you shouldn't put this new hotboy in the crossfire."

Max frowned at her friend, but instead of responding how she might to anybody else on the planet, she answered: "Meeting Kurt wasn't planned."

"No, Boo, but you don't want to take advantage of his feelings either."

"We just met."

"Just promise me if he turns out to be a lame duck you'll cut him loose before he can get his heart busted. You can find different ways to torture the other one."

Max considered Original Cindy's words and decided to articulate a pledge, both to her friend and to herself.

"I promise that my relationship with Kurt, whatever it ends up being, will have nothing to do with Logan. Is that good enough?"

"Sounds great, Boo. Now lets make sure you look hot. Aiight?"

"Aiight."

XXXXXXXXX

**Jesse's Coffee Shop…**

An hour later, Max strolled into a nice, cozy looking coffee joint, wearing a purple sweater and form fitting black jeans. The shirt covered her mid-drift and her hair was in soft waves; she going for more of a romantic look rather than one of "pure hotness," as Cindy would label it.

She smiled as she caught Kurt's eye and walked over to the small table with two comfy arm chairs, one of which he's seated in with the wheelchair close beside.

"Hi Max. You look really beautiful," Kurt unabashedly stated, making Max's smile go slightly higher. His appreciative glance wasn't smarmy, but nor was it just friendly either.

"Hey. Thanks."

"What do you say we order something deliciously sugary and something mercifully caffeinated to get us started?" he asked, gesturing to the counter.

"Sounds perfect." Max replied and waited for him to transfer to his wheel chair before heading up to the counter.

"So what looks good?" he questioned playfully, before informing her, "You'll have to tell me because I can't see into that high case."

Max smiled and considered the pastries before her, "Hmmm… well I would tell you about the fruit muffins, but then I'd be steering you away from the chocolate and toffee chip one that is really the only one worth considering."

There was something refreshing at the way he easily asked for help, obviously not embarrassed or daunted by his inability to stand. It was an attitude that Max couldn't help but juxtapose against the only other paraplegic she'd had caused to interact with - Logan, the guy who had a way of pervading every corner of her world, every fiber of her consciousness. Ironic that the man who pushed her into being a better person, also had the poorer attitude toward his disability. Ironic and telling.

A fact not lost on Max, which was partly why she'd spent the ride over thinking about the man's impact on her current date.

Despite her flippant response, Max had taken the time to ponder Original Cindy's words of advice more closely. She wanted to be sure her intentions were clear and that she wouldn't be using the charming guy she was meeting as a means of punishing Logan for the Vertes situation. Punishment that was like a residual anger hangover after a long night of over-indulgence.

That nightmare had ended in much the same way as it had started - in the dark, covered in secrecy, with emotions running high on both sides.

After the scene at the clinic, Logan had never again asked her to accompany him to his sessions. Instead, he'd employed bodyguards from the informant net and had arranged plans for Vertes' departure the day of his last treatment.

It was he, and he alone that had accompanied Vertes to the city limit's check point, watching stone-faced and erect as she boarded the bus that would take her to Canada. Of course Max had followed, surveying the scene from an invisible distance, much as she kept an eye on their sessions, internally pleased with the way every therapy meeting had remained terse and almost silent after Vertes' stunt.

Max had intrinsically known why he'd been the only one to accompany the doctor to the train station, though it was dangerous and risked exposure. Vertes was Logan's shame, his weakness embodied in physical form. And, therefore, only he would be responsible if something went wrong on the way to the border. Max understood, but still considered him stupid.

Quietly, she'd made her way to the surveillance tower overlooking the bus stop and had quickly erased every piece of video footage linking Logan to the Manticore-wanted woman below. She'd never spoken to him of it, just as he never asked what Vertes had meant that day, but she'd left the only tape with visible footage of his face on his desk in his apartment.

He would understand, she knew. Still it wasn't a sign of forgiveness. They were far from okay.

That is what she'd been thinking as Max had stood there watching him watch the bus pull away, eyes never wavering until the tail lights completely departed his line of vision, despite the intensifying sprinkling of rain that dotted his glasses and seeped into the neck line of his leather jacket.

When he had finally begun to walk away, Max had felt no sense of closure or catharsis – though there was a sense of coming full circle.

Below her, Logan was walking with no trace of limp or pain. Physically, he mirrored the man who'd held a gun on her nine months ago – powerful, confident, gorgeous, and cold. When they'd met she'd been those things too, but she was distinctly aware that emotionally she was not that same person anymore. Now she felt vulnerable, lonely, and raw - and despite her verbal protests, Max knew, it was because of him.

Resentment and anger once again flooded through her body, and when he'd paged her that night, she hadn't answered. In a way, she'd stopped answering from then on out, despite his continued efforts.

In some primal, inexplicable way, Max felt that Logan had betrayed her, and unfortunately for him, X5s have perfect recall.

XXXX

Still, that had been days ago, and the initial anger began to dissipate under Logan's continued attentions. Under his skillful assault a new type of emotion began to permeate Max's sense: confusion. She was still responding to his Eyes Only requests, still diligent and responsive to his words, yet he seemed incapable of letting their relationship rest. It confused her and annoyed her and she found herself unwilling to deal with it. She needed a break. An emotional one. And that's where Kurt had come in.

Max wasn't looking for love or even companionship. She just needed something else to focus on, someone else. Perhaps that was using him, but not because he happened to be in a wheelchair.

Besides… was it really so terrible to want to feel like a regular girl? Kurt made her feel like that, and Logan, whatever he was to her, didn't.

And anyway, it was just coffee…

Kurt's laugh brought Max back to the situation at hand, "Chocolate toffee it is." He'd winked at her and she'd placed the order.

The two continued their date with amiable conversation. Max found herself laughing often at Kurt's playful humor. There was something very young and carefree about him that made her relax, and forget to be a soldier.

They discussed motorcycles, Kurt had ridden a specially designed one; the state of sugary treats; local bars, Crash obviously being Max's haunt of choice; and a mutual acquaintance they discovered.

All in all, Max decided she was having a good time and that she definitely wanted to continue a friendship with this guy. She had few enough people in her life that could make her laugh, and she knew the value of that particular commodity.

It was mid-chuckle that Kurt decided to change the subject on her.

"So, Max. Not to pry. Well, actually, yes to pry…. I'm curious about your relationship with Logan?" Kurt began, interested in discussing a more serious topic.

"Not much to tell." Max replied lightly, letting her walls creep up. "We're friends. I run errands for him sometimes. He cooks me dinner."

"Are you guys strictly platonic or have you played with the friends with benefits idea?" Kurt asked bluntly. When he noticed her frown, he decided he needed to be more careful Max, something he wasn't use to. "Listen, I'm honestly not trying to be too nosy. I know we just met, but to be fair I have some reservations about this unidentified, ambiguous relationship."

"Like?"

"Like moving in on some other guy's love interest before he can get up the cajones to do something about it." Kurt spelled out, completely unembarrassed by the detailed conversation. "Cale's a good guy, but he was also obviously uncomfortable with the hand fate dealt him and well… some guys take a while to deal with that."

"He's up and walking again." Max briskly stated, "and I'm not his _interest_."

"Really?!" Kurt started, "Not about interest part – well, yeah kind of about that too (he gave her quick wink) - but his injury? I thought he had a full break to his T8?"

Max shrugged. "Wasn't that bad. He began responding to therapy later than expected, but it wasn't like a few years had passed."

Max knew she was on shaky ground if Logan had been forthcoming with his actual injury, but somehow she doubted it. Besides, Max knew enough about spinal cord injuries to know how to spin this – she'd never admit to Logan, but she had done a lot of research on the topic.

"Full recovery?"

"Looks like it's going to be that way," Max acknowledged, refraining from adding that Logan was already taking long walks and had begun a weight training program to return the muscle to his legs and lower abdomen.

"Good for him!" Kurt stated with genuine enthusiasm. "He didn't strike me as the type who would have adjusted well."

Max was unable to hide her wry smile.

"So… that solves one of my questions," Kurt stated. "Can I ask if you've ever dated a guy in a wheelchair before?"

"Seeing if I'm a wheel-chaser," Max teased.

"Something like that."

"Well, no, I haven't. Though I'm not terribly concerned with the idea one way or the other," Max confirmed.

Kurt flashed her a charming grin, "You don't seem to be. You passed the muffin test with flying colors!"

"And what, pray tell, is the muffin test?" Max bantered back, enjoying herself again.

"To be honest, some girls aren't comfortable with the whole not walking thing," Kurt shrugged. "And let's just say I'm not in the mood to train anyone. If I take a girl here and she feels uncomfortable or doesn't want to describe the muffins, I know she's the type to resent not going somewhere if it isn't wheelchair accessible. Not that I don't have my ways" he winked again. "On the other hand, if the girl spends and overly long amount of time describing everything and deferring to my wishes to overcompensate then I know she's going to be overbearing."

"Quite a system you got there," Max shook her head in admiration, "But, I'm not sure whether I should be flattered at passing, annoyed at being tested, or jealous that I'm not the first girl you've shown these muffins too."

Kurt leaned forward as he flirted, "Definitely the last one. But then I'd have to tell you that you're by far the prettiest woman I've ever ordered a muffin with."

"Well then I guess that will have to make up for the rest," Max flirted back.

Yes, Max felt exactly like a regular girl.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Crash…**

"So spill it, Boo, how was your date?" OC asked.

"Max had a date?" questioned Sketchy, "I thought you were with that rich dude."

"Ouch!" Sketchy murmured as Original Cindy smacked the back of his head.

"How many times have I told you not to talk about things you don't know anything about?" She questioned, obviously continuing a previous conversation. "Max is exploring her options since Hotboy ain't put any claims on her."

Max looked at her two friends antics and had to laugh; she felt like she'd done a lot of that today.

"It was nice."

"Nice?" Cindy repeated, apparently feeling the same way about that word as Logan.

"It was fun." Max offered instead, unwilling to get into this debate again. "He's… fun, easy to talk to."

"Did you hook up?" Sketchy asked, before barely ducking away from Cindy's hand. "Hey! That's a legitimate question!"

"It was just coffee," Max said with an eye roll.

"So?" Sketchy asked.

"So, we were just getting to know one another."

"And what do you say, sugar, interested in getting to know more?" Cindy questioned.

"Well we have plans to go out tomorrow night. Might bring him to Crash or something, so I guess you could say yeah."

Both Original Cindy and Sketchy smiled at their friend. It was nice to see Max doing something the normal way for once. However, when she got up to refill the pitcher an exchange took place Max wouldn't have been as happy to witness.

Looking at Original Cindy, Sketchy inquired, "So what are the odds on this and where are you placing your bet?"

Raising her eyebrow, Original Cindy answered, "Double or nothing that my girl is finally going to get some action."

"You've got yourself a deal," Sketchy answered, "I'll go call the regulars."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers……**

"Hey, what ya working on?" Max asked, causing a preoccupied Logan to jump at the sound of her voice.

"Max. Hey." Logan returned once he had regained his composure. It had been a while since Max had bothered to sneak up on him. "Just looking into this case about a local adoption agency. Turns out, they're running a purchasing facility out of the back… selling off American kids to other countries as either slaves or family members…"

"Sort of sounds like a repeat of the Bronck case," Max responded.

She wasn't quite sure what had made her show up here. After her date she had felt giddy, full of energy, but as the afternoon had progressed she found herself overcome with a heavy feeling in her gut and an inexplicable desire to see Logan. It reminded Max of the times she'd pulled a burglary since meeting him. At first, the adrenaline would keep her blood pumping as a feeling of triumph coursed through her, but gradually guilt would set in and Max would find herself at Logan's door, needing him to chastise her or reassure her by giving her some Eyes Only work to purge her of her guilt. It was one of the many odd things about their relationship.

"Yeah, except they're not distinguishing the kids for the sex trade… they're actually making their case to the parents who are selling their kids off to have a better chance in another part of the world."

"So mommy and daddy think junior is going to get a world class education, but he's really doing somebody's laundry across the globe." Max supplied, her brain multi-tasking between Logan's words and her own wayward feelings.

"Pretty much," Logan answered.

"That's pretty twisted. So… is this something you've got covered or were you planning on requesting my expertise?" Max bantered, noticing the pleased surprise in Logan's glance.

"Well, now that you mention it, I do need you," he smiled, not bothering to add the clause 'for the mission.' Pausing a moment longer than necessary to allow the multiple meanings behind his words to permeate her quick mind, he added, "Bling is going to pose as an interested soon-to-be parent but…"

"…he needs a baby-mom." Max supplied, already catching on to the plan.

"Yep. That way Eyes Only can get a good first-hand look at what the sales pitch is."

"When do you want to do this?" Max asked, wondering who he would have gotten to do it if she hadn't offered.

"Tomorrow, actually. We have a meeting set up for around noon. Does that work for you?" Logan inquired.

"It's fine. I'll squeeze it in during my lunch break. By the way, who were you going to get to do it if I didn't?" Max curiously questioned.

"One of Bling's old friends from the informant net. I was just about to have Eyes Only contact her before you came… but this is much better. Bling wasn't crazy about the idea of involving her and well… you're much more skilled at this sort of thing anyway." Logan answered her.

"I aim to please. So how long has Bling been" Max began, fully intent on gathering information to tease the physical therapist with when her beeper went off.

Frowning as she checked the number, Max looked up before stating: "Work."

The interruption put them both in mind of their recent interaction. And despite knowing that he should probably just drop it, Logan found himself clearing his throat and asking, "so… how was coffee?"

Max's eyebrows raised in response, surprised that he would broach the subject. "Fine," she tersely answered, unwilling to talk about it.

"Fine? That sounds worse than nice," Logan rejoined, immediately cringing at his rash reply.

Max responded by putting her hand on her hip and giving him an unflinching stare before stating: "Actually, it was fun. We have a lot in common, nothing like saving small children and widows, but you know, things mere mortals do like go out to clubs, hanging out with friends… that sort of thing."

Her biting critique of his Eyes Only work wasn't lost on Logan, it stung. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he questioned: "Mere mortals? Not exactly how I'd describe you Max."

She shrugged, "Whatever. The point is. It was good… I even passed the muffin test."

She knew she shouldn't have said that. It would only lead to further fighting, but she did it anyway.

"Muffin test?"

"Just something Kurt does to see if a woman's cool with his condition. Seems I'm not too clingy or too selfish, but perfect with dealing with… things. Well at least if the guy in question is comfortable enough to ask for help…" Her last statement was said tauntingly, daring him to push the envelope.

"Well you do have a lot of experience helping a man who's incapable of doing his own legwork." Logan responded, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Max smirked, a master chess player, with the king in sight. "I don't think Kurt is interested in me doing his legwork. He's got more personal desires in mind."

Her maneuver worked, Logan's control was snapped by that last comment as he openly glowered at her, his anger palpable. Although she had won, Max found herself questioning the wisdom of pushing Logan, as she struggled to keep from squirming under his possessive glare.

"What? Interested in helping with the equipment to keep things running?" Logan bit out, alluding to the necessarily accessories that many paraplegics were forced to rely on when they lost control of certain automatic functions. For months, Logan had struggled to keep Max away from those things, using them as reminder of why he needed to keep her at a distance.

"Reality-check, Logan. Being in a wheelchair doesn't make someone less attractive or any less of a man." Max snapped back, letting her anger wash over him. How many times had she wanted to say that to him?

"I need a reality check?" Logan scoffed. "I'm not the genetically enhanced super-being dating a guy in a wheelchair."

"Excuse me?! What do you think? That along with splicing me with feline DNA that they included a sequence making me attracted to moving legs?! That all I want out of partner is some who can dodge bullets with me?" Max angrily bit off.

That wasn't it, Logan knew, and he threw his trump card at her.

"More like your ignoring the fact that when you need to run you might find pushing a wheelchair a pretty tiring activity!" he angrily retorted, a hundred previously imagined nightmares filtering through his mind, all of which ending it Max being caught by Manticore.

"It was coffee, Logan! It's not like I'm going to ask him to go on the lam with me." Max immediately responded, too angry to measure her words.

The comment caused them both to pause as the parallels between the two men became impossible to ignore. Max's face burned and Logan's eyes blazed.

"If he cared about you at all, he would say no." Logan responded in a low voice, his eyes burning into hers.

"If he cared about me at all, he would understand that I didn't mind." Max retorted.

The connection between them continued to hum with emotions as their gazes didn't waiver. Logan found himself needing to go to her, to touch her, but standing seemed to break the spell she was under, and Max quickly stated: "Late."

She was gone within seconds, the door slamming behind her. Even working legs were no match for her when Max ran.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Crash, two days later…**

Max hadn't felt this carefree in a long time, since before a certain cyber journalist had stepped into her life and made her think about things that were really none of her concern. Her earlier tiff with Logan was nearly forgotten in the loud, boisterous environment – as her and her friends drank cheap beer, complained about Normal, and debated the merits of such common issues as the state of hip hop music and hooking up with shorties .

Kurt more than fit in – he led the debate on the best new nightclubs in town and sided with Herbal on his worldview – agreeing that everything was "all good" with a wink at Max. He also kept the booze flowing and encouraged everyone to stretch the limits of their measly paychecks. In short, it was an evening like they hadn't had in quite some time, and Max had to admit it felt nice.

In addition, Kurt was also attentive and considerate to her – not in the Logan Cale chivalric, save-the-world kind of way – but in a playful, flirtatious way that Max thought was nice, even endearing. After months of uncertainty it felt good to be sure that one was wanted. After delving in the soul on so many occasions, it was a relief to have everything open and obvious for everyone to read – instead of coded and classified. All her friends knew what was going on between them and, therefore, knew how to act.

It was partly the beer, partly the ease with her friends, partly his obvious desire for her – but when Kurt took Max home and pulled her down for a kiss, Max let him.

The kiss was more than nice, it was youthful, fun, and light. It was the fruition of a couple of early twenty-somethings enjoying the feel of one another's lips and bodies.

Sort of like the bubbles in champagne, Max thought.

And secretly, Max congratulated herself on keeping Logan Cale out of the evening, noting the way Kurt's lips were really quite skillful and his technique sensual – good points to make to a certain disbeliever.

However, the late-night makeout session probably would have ended there – in front of Max's door, if Kurt hadn't chosen that moment to pull Max down into his lap. Suddenly, her body felt a lot hotter and more turned on. Conscious thought left her and her hands became more insistent as the twined in Kurt's hair.

She would never have admitted it, even to herself, but Max had spent more than one night contemplating what it would feel like to be pulled into the arms of a man in a wheel chair. That the man was Logan Cale and not Max's current lip partner wasn't totally noted by her body. With her eyes closed and mouth occupied it began to react as it had wanted to on many previous occasions.

Of course, Max didn't consciously register this – she just knew she was excited to continue kissing and didn't protest when Kurt opened the door and wheeled them inside her apartment for privacy. It felt good, his hands in her hair, his lips on her neck - Max actively participated in their heavy-lip session until he pulled away slightly.

"Max," Kurt gasped. "Why don't we continue this on your couch where we could be more comfortable?"

His voice made Max jump as her eyes became focused and she realized where she was. Or more exactly, who she was with. Again, her mind refused to make the connection that was just under the surface – instead she rationalized she just didn't want to continue.

Smiling at him shyly, Max untangled herself from Kurt and gently, but firmly stated: "I had a really nice time, but I don't think I'm ready for a couch tour."

Kurt took a deep breath to steady his pounding heart, but gamely replied, "I enjoyed myself too, but are you sure I can't persuade you to continue it?" A little wiggle of his eyebrows, affirmed that he wouldn't push things if she wasn't ready.

"Nah. But maybe we can meet up later this week?" Max soothed.

"Of course, I'd like that." He answered.

With good-natured reluctance he turned to go, running into Original Cindy on his way out.

Kurt was far from embarrassed and his smile alone wouldn't have been enough to clue OC in on what had been going on, but the look on Max's face, and the lateness of the hour, told her all she needed to know – not to mention the big red mark on her neck. Original Cindy nearly did a gig.

She couldn't wait to collect on her bet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Jam Pony…**

Normal didn't know it, but he was about to live through one of his personal nightmares – anarchy in Jam Pony.

The day had started out fairly regularly. Most of the bike riders moseyed into work late, and spent too much time socializing. Fifteen minutes before lunchtime, Normal watched as many of the slacker bums darted out of work early – as if he couldn't see them. Seeing one particularly bold transgressor, who didn't even bother to hide her intent, Normal couldn't hold back the scathing comment:

"Excuse _me_. Wouldn't want work to get in the way of your lunch hour."

"Don't worry Normal." Original Cindy answered back directly, ignoring the sarcasm. "I won't."

"Well then missy, I'm sure you won't mind your little break getting in the way of your paycheck."

"You know Normal, normally Original Cindy would find your negativity to be the fly in my flavor – but lucky for you I'm about to make more loot over this one lunch break than I normally do in an entire day."

If Normal thought about inquiring as to the nature of what was probably illegal activity, he didn't have time as Original Cindy sauntered out of the building.

A few minutes later, at the appropriate lunch hour two gentlemen – Max's rich friend and an attractive, well-defined black man who was dressed sloppily – entered Jam Pony. Normal couldn't help but admire the unknown man's cut pecks – very gladiator like, he thought.

They stopped only long enough for Max's friend to say they were looking for her, and then they marched out of ear-reach, at least temporarily.

XXXX

"Hi, Max." Logan stated, as he approached her.

He was wary of his reception, but figured pretending like everything was normal would be the best course of action. Besides, Blink was there to keep things civil.

"Hey." Max returned, slamming her locker with unnecessary force.

"Rough day?"

"Nah. Just not looking forward to blowing my lunch break on an errand."

"Yeah, sorry about that. If it helps, I packed lunch. Payment and an apology." He smiled at her, letting her know the apology was for more than just the added lunch duties.

"Well it's a start," she answered, not totally immune to Logan Cale's smile. "Hey, Bling."

"Hi Max, thanks for acting as back up."

"No problem. You two ready to get this over with? I eventually gotta get back to my paying job."

"Lead the way." Logan mentioned, picking up Max's backpack as he turned to go.

They trio were stopped by a breathless Original Cindy who ran up to block their path.

"Going somewhere, sugar?" she asked Max, barely acknowledging the two men beside her.

"Well I wasn't going to take in the fresh air," Max replied, aware that there was something odd about her friend's behavior.

"Listen. I need you to do something for me, is there any way you can hang around a bit longer?" Cindy asked.

"You know I usually have your back girl, but Logan needs me to run this errand…"

"It's okay Max. " Logan interrupted, anxious to be accommodating to win back her favor. "We can wait, can't we Bling?"

Bling refrained from chuckling and played into Logan's wish.

"Sure. No appointments today."

"Thanks." Original Cindy jumped, seemingly aware of them for the first time. "If you two want to take a walk in the meantime I'm sure we'll be finished soon."

"OC!" Max scolded, surprised at her friend's rudeness. "We can go for the walk."

"No can do sister girl, we need to wait here for some people to show up."

Max eyed her suspiciously and ignored Original Cindy's eye gestures which were signaling for her to get rid of Bling and Logan. Logan was just about to concede to OC's less than subtle signs when a familiar voice came from across the room, sealing all of their fates.

"Max!" Kendra shrieked, running up and wrapping her former roommate in a big bear hug. "Long time no see."

"Hey Kendra," Max answered back, pleased but surprised. "Didn't know you would be stopping by. How's Walter?"

"You know him… active and virile as usual." The woman bubbled, seemingly unaware of the disgust Max swallowed down and the smirks of Logan and Bling.

"So… are we ready?" Kendra asked, looking at Original Cindy for confirmation.

"Ready for what?" Max asked.

"Well, I was going to wait for Sketchy and Herbal as witnesses." Original Cindy responded, betraying a slight nervousness in her manner. "Maybe we should meet them outside. What do you say?"

"How long before they get here?" Kendra wanted to know. "I've got this appointment and well…"

"Yeah, us too." Max piped up, annoyed to not know what was going on and feeling the absurdity of waiting to bring down people who harmed children in for whatever OC and Kendra had up their sleeves.

"Not sure, but…"

"You've got three minutes," Max broke in, crossing her arms in a way that everyone who knew her recognized as a gesture of stubborn resolve. "Unless you feel like telling me what's up."

Sizing up the situation, Original Cindy came to a decision. "Hey, moneybags, do me a favor and go ask Normal when Sketchy's gettin back."

If Logan objected to the title or the manner of address, he didn't let it cut too deep, as he rolled his eyes slightly and stated: "Sure. No problem." And walked off to find her an answer.

"OC…" Max began, even more annoyed. "Not that I don't love a good mystery and all, but what the hell is going on?"

"Just a second." Original Cindy demanded in a voice that would have impressed a Manticore field commander. "Bling, my man, I need you to do us a favor."

"Sure, what do you need?" asked Bling, interested in their unusual behavior.

"Just stand here," Original Cindy said, leading him a few steps so he was standing in front of Max "…and watch."

"Okkkaay…" He raised an amused eye to Logan whose communication with Normal had lasted only a few seconds, long enough for a quick 'soon or that bums fired,' and was about to make his way back to party as they spoke.

"Max?"

"Yes, OC?"

As Original Cindy leaned into to supposedly say something, she reached over and tugged the edge of Max's turtleneck down, exposing a large red mark on the right side of her neck, visible to anyone facing that direction. The startled intake of breath from Kendra as she noticed it and quickly smothered giggle, left no doubt that the love-bite was the purpose of this little venture.

Immediately, Max covered the spot with her hand, stunned by her friends' actions.

"Oh my god, you're right," Kendra squealed, unable to contain herself. "Max Guevera a marked woman. Who would have thought it?!"

"Told ya. That's ten large," a pleased OC smirked.

"I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen with my own eyes," murmured Kendra who was enjoying the deer caught in headlights look that Max was giving them.

"That ain't nothing yet. I'm going for the jackpot…. Max!"

Max hadn't moved, her face was still in shock and her hand still pressed to her neck. Maybe it was the fact that the two women were squealing about something on her neck that wasn't a barcode, or maybe it was just the humiliation of having been exposed in front of a room full of people – either way Max remained impassive enough to turn her eyes to Cindy without saying anything.

"Tell us boo, you're squeeze got skills?" Cindy brashly asked, adding. "…despite his juvenile handy work."

"I need to sit down." Kendra stammered.

"But you saw it right! Bling, you need to bear witness. That was indeed a blush that graced our favorite tough-ass bike messenger's face, was it not?" Cindy crowed.

"Can't say there is any point in denying it," stated Bling, obviously amused with the two women's antics. "Good to know Max has friends who keep her real."

"So Kendra, I believe that's a total of fifty that you owe me."

As she watched Original Cindy's hand stretch out to Kendra, Max was finally able to focus on one aspect of her humiliation.

"You bet on me!" her voice was incredulous and slightly high-pitched.

"Listen Boo, no offense but I've lost a lot of money on you over the last year and this was my chance to get some back."

"And how exactly," Max's sarcastic edge was finally back in play, "did I do that?"

In a moment of reckless triumph, OC responded: "Some of us thought you might be getting busy before now, if you catch up drift."

Perhaps Original Cindy thought she was being purposely vague but Bling, Kendra, and Max all caught her meaning with perfect ease. As did, Logan who had made it back to the party early enough to catch on to what was happening, the mark of Max's neck visible from his spot a few meters away.

It was Max's glance over her shoulder that finally caused OC to turn around and notice him too, standing perfectly still, eyes intense gazing at Max, who unbelievably, flushed a second time in one day.

_Damn_, was all Original Cindy could think, knowing things had suddenly gotten very complicated… and perhaps slightly dangerous for herself.

"There's a chance I might have to kill you." Max deadpanned to Cindy, her eyes never wavering from Logan's who seemed to be pinning her into place, though he never said a word or moved a muscle.

There was only one way out of a huge jam like this, Original Cindy knew, and that was to bluff your way out by attitude.

"Max!" OC stated, putting her hands up in a gesture of peace and surrender, "I was just defending your honor. I knew my home girl wasn't doomed to everlasting spinsterhood. And there's no shame in getting a little lip-sugar."

The admission was carefully crafted to let a certain someone know just how innocent Max's night time activities had been.

"Besides it wasn't me who started this little pastime; Kendra and Sketchy began one night at Crash, and Herbal and a few other Jam Pony messengers have got in on it since. I figured Kendra was the best of the bunch to actually witness the transaction." There was no way to cover the last part, it was said simply to cover Original Cindy's ass as the X5 continued to seethe.

Max didn't trust herself to answer. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been this angry at her friends, and judging from the looks Kendra and OC were exchanging they knew it.

"Come on Bling – let's go get this bitch over with." Max responded to the one person in her sight who she wasn't furious with or embarrassed to face, wrenching her gaze from Logan's with a determination to finish the Eyes Only mission as if nothing had happened.

Unfortunately for all, she didn't get far before Sketchy caught up to them, huffing. "Alright. I'm here for proof, let the judging begin!"

He should have noticed the murderous look on Max's face, but he didn't.

"Sorry Sketchy, proof of Max's late night activities has already been given, and I have witnesses to prove it. Now pay up." Original Cindy stated, anxious for him to quiet down.

"What?! No way, man. I want evidence." Sketchy stated.

"Yeah," piped up a voice beside him, Jay the peeping bike messenger whom Max had had to lay the smack down on a few times, joined in. "If I'm laying down ten bucks, I want something to fuel my fantasies for later."

Neither Original Cindy nor Kendra bothered to answer, knowing Max's temper was beyond the point of no returned.

Her deceptively calm and low voice answered back, "That so? Want something to think about? And you Sketchy… need some 'evidence'."

The men weren't totally fooled. They saw the look in her eyes and backed up as she advanced on them.

"Nothing personal, Max," Sketchy tried to amend his previous statement. "Just a harmless bet. Understand?"

Max shook her head, as if in acceptance, as she continued to advance. "Oh, I understand. And how about you understand this…"

Swiftly, Max had pushed the men back and into two large, black metal garbage cans behind them. Their fall caused the garbage cans to roll, down the smooth floors of Jam Pony and in opposite directions. Sketchy's can, turned barrel, took out several riders and their bikes. Jay's rolled for a longer distance, gaining speed and hitting the lockers with such force that they tilted and shook, knocking most of the contents onto the floor.

Normal hadn't seen the exchange, but he noticed the mass chaos that resulted, packages and papers flying everywhere, limbs and bicycles being straightened out, voices accusing, yelling, and laughing. Both Kendra and Original Cindy's eyes remained wide, wisely staying quiet as they stared at the results of Max's temper.

Without waiting for a reply, the angry transgenic stomped out of Jam Pony, Bling following with Logan at a greater distance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Logan's penthouse…**

The rain seemed to fall in moody streaks outside Logan's penthouse view. Or perhaps, Bling reasoned, it was the man who sat staring out the window that leant the air of solemnity to the weather.

The afternoon had progressed with notable regularity since the memorable events at Jam Pony, or at least as normal of an afternoon as one could expect with the man behind Eyes Only. The three of them had completed the mission without incident, meeting those in charge and getting a peak at the files that help their company records. During the situation, Logan and Max's interaction remained professional and perfunctory as neither alluded to the scene that had just gone down as they communicated on coms.

If anything, they'd struggled for even greater normalcy than their recent encounters had had. An effort that made things seem even more tense than before. It had been with a silent huff of relief that Bling had finally watched Max depart for Jam Pony, aware of the large, red elephant in the room, hidden by Max's turtleneck, but clearly visible to both Logan and Max. They both needed time to reflect on it, Bling reasoned, although he largely suspected that neither would come to the logical conclusion about their embarrassment.

Still, he had owed it to Logan to show up later that night and see what his twisted mind had done to the scene. Knowing him as he did, Bling was not surprised to find Logan at his usual brooding spot. However, he was taken aback by the words that reached out to answer Bling's request of how he was doing.

"An attractive woman came on to me today, at the market. Asked me if I'd like to go out on a date sometime," Logan stated to a watchful Bling.

Of all things, that definitely hadn't been what Bling was expecting to hear. Still, Logan's mind often worked in a circular manner, particularly in regards to feelings, so the therapist was willing to follow.

When Logan didn't continue, Bling was forced to ask: "And you said?"

"No."

There was no anger or annoyance behind his response, just pure contemplation.

"And this is significant why?" Bling questioned, confused by his friend's pensive mood, and the bent of the conversation.

"I told her I was with someone else."

"So?" Bling laughed slightly. "Famous excuse."

"I meant it." Logan revealingly replied, letting the words sink in to the perceptive man behind him.

"Ahhh..."

"Yeah."

"Despite what happened today?" Bling pressed.

"Apparently."

"Are you planning on telling this someone else how you see your relationship?" Bling inquired, finally understanding the realization his former client had just had, a realization that was long overdue.

Logan continued to stare out the window and shook his head to the night.

"Can't. She's with someone else."

"Little make-out session doesn't necessarily mean anything. Where's your sense of competition? If she's worth it, fight for her." Bling hoped the cajoling note to his voice would jolt Logan out of the mood he was currently in. The man had just realized he was in love, or something very near to that, with his best friend and cat burglar, surely that had to shake a guy into action.

Logan thought about that, trying to figure out why he was so resigned to losing Max; why was he so willing to give up what he wanted the second after he realized how desperately he desired it?

The answer stared back at him as obvious as the water on the window pane. For months now, he had denied his feelings on the premise that he wasn't worthy. He'd told himself he couldn't get involved because he was a danger to her, because he'd slow her down and Manticore would catch up, that he had nothing left to offer.

Her relationship with Kurt stood out as a direct contrast to those thoughts. It had never been the chair keeping them apart, he acknowledged, it had been Logan's own neuroses.

The realization came with a price. It forced him to consider all the choices and feelings he'd had about himself since the shooting in full panorama – and they weren't pretty.

As much as Logan wanted to start by fixing the symptom – his relationship with Max - he knew he needed to begin with the disease, his own messed-up self-perception. He owed her that. To approach her as someone able to be a partner, even a caretaker in certain situation, wasn't something he could do just yet. And, if Logan were honest with himself, it might be a lengthy process.

As much as it killed him, Logan knew that he might lose her in the meantime.

Suddenly, Logan resented Kurt for all the right reasons. Not because he was a wheelchair bound man who didn't realize that he didn't deserve Max, but because he was a self-confident man who was vying for the woman Logan cared for, and had the sense to do so from the beginning.

Who knew there was a right and wrong way to dislike someone?

Finally looking at Bling, Logan stated: "I can't. Not yet. I need to be whole first, and for the first time in a long time I'm beginning to realize that has nothing to do with walking."

Despite the gravity behind Logan's words, Bling suddenly felt much more lighthearted. It was the first sign of true health he'd seen from his friend and patient in many months. It was a beginning, and just as Bling suspected, it had resulted from Logan's feelings for Max, the one bright spot in a dangerous existence. As if confirming Bling's thoughts, Logan spoke once more as he stared out into the night.

"I want her to be happy. If that means watching her with someone else, then so be it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Space Needle, voice over.**

_It took four hours up here to calm me down enough not to want to strangle my best friend. Took me another two to see the humor in the situation; not that Original Cindy doesn't owe me some serious penance. _

_It's odd; I've dealt with a secret government agency on my tail since I was nine, a thousand different situations that other people have never had to face – and what really bums my ass is just a bit of personal drama. Stuff your average girl probably deals with all the time._

_Guess being normal isn't as easy as I thought it would be. Still… I wish Logan hadn't witnessed that little scene earlier. I mean it's not like I owe him an explanation. I've said it a dozen times, 'we're not like that.' So me dating someone shouldn't change anything between us. _

_Except the thing is, it changes everything. _

_Fade to black…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

A huge thank you for all the reviews (including the feedback on the long chapters); as well as an equally grateful thank you to Lisa who betaed this.


	4. Episode 4 Like That

A/N: My beta, Lisa, deserves a gold star for this one. Not only did I asked her to read it multiple times, but she pulled off some last minute, lightening fast reads this afternoon. By far, the best beat ever.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Episode 4 – Like That**

The scene opens with a close up of Max's face as she attempts to stifle a yawn. As the view pans back we see that she is seated at a table in crash with a jubilant group of her friends - Original Cindy, Sketchy, Herbal, Sky, and Kurt – all laughing and chatting around her.

Max voice over:  
_I love my friends. Before I met Original Cindy, I'd never had anything like them or this before – joking, hanging out, drinking. They're a big part of the reason that all the hiding and scrapping by, dealing with Normal's screeching and Manticore's plotting is worth it. For this – nights spent doing nothing but chilling._

_But every once in a while, when I've spent one too many nights at Crash, I find myself getting restless. Like if I hear one more story about Sketchy screwing up, or Original Cindy finding some girl, or Normal blowing his gasket - my super-charged brain is going to melt down into an unused pile of liquid mush…_

XXX

"I'm telling you there can't be more than a few hundred jelly beans in that jar…" stated Sketchy as he picked up a large container in the center of the table and shook it.

"You trippin', wiger, because I'm saying there are at least a thousand different beans in that magic jar," Original Cindy replied confidently.

"You say what you want, OC, but I'm the one that's gonna win the night of free pitchers." Sketchy responded.

"The Almighty says we should not gamble on material goods," Herbal added smiling, hoping to distract his friends who had been bickering all day.

"We're not gambling," Sketchy countered, "We participating in a business opportunity."

"An opportunity for me to beat your ass, again," Original Cindy added.

"I say we put another bet on it to keep things interesting," Kurt responded as he joined in the fray. "How 'bout ththttttthhe person who's the furthest from the actual number buys the table a pitcher?"

Murmurs of assent arose from around the table, except from Max who was seemingly distracted.

Leaning toward her, Kurt whispered, "What you say, Max? You in?"

"Hey, I'm done buying beer for the next two weeks at least. Isn't that right OC?" Max pointedly inquired, raising her eyebrows at her friend.

"Damn girl, you should at least let me enjoy some of my winnings!" Original Cindy responded, but when Max's eyebrows went a bit higher she quickly relented. "…or I could just keep buying you I'm sorry beers for the next few months."

"That's what I thought, Boo." Max smirked, enjoying the subdued Cindy who has been making up for her previous actions since the scene in Jam Pony.

"Come on, Maxie!" Kurt entreated, "at least join in on the betting."

Finally allowing her eyes to slide over the jar, Max immediately responded: "Two thousand, seven hundred and thirty-two."

A small break in the commotion of the table ensued as everyone turned to stare at her.

"Give or take a few," Max added, attempting to cover her slip.

"That's my girl… the math whiz," Kurt teased, attempting to pull her in for a light kiss on the lips.

Max endured the caress, but her posture was stiff, nearly impersonal, and she immediately broke it off under the pretense of checking on some noise at the bar. When her eyes glided back to the table, they encounter a knowing look from Original Cindy who own gaze was lit with concern.

"Listen. I forgot I had this errand to do," Max ambiguously stated, directing her words at Kurt. "Can I catch up with you tomorrow?"

"Are you sure you don't want any help with your errand?" he asked, a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

"Nah, I'm good. But are we still on for dinner tomorrow?" Max asked as gently as possible.

"Dinner, a movie, then there's this club opening that I've been dying to go to." Kurt smiled.

"Sounds great," Max returned his smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Late."

Before she was able to get to the door however, Kurt's voice stopped her.

"I know you're not into public displays of affection, but how about I escort you to your motorcycle?" He winked, wheeling quickly to reach her side.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Max riding her motorcycle….**

_I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean every time I get into a relationship I get this overwhelming sensation of being caged. Maybe it's my feline DNA, but this girl definitely likes her independence. _

_I mean usually when I'm not in the mood for Crash, I can just bail, but with Kurt there I have this obligation to go. I should probably just tell him I don't feel like it, but he's always so excited to go out, and he really seems to enjoy my friends. Which is a good thing… right? _

_I mean it's not natural for a girl to want to abandon her friends and boyfriend to go sit on top of some abandoned city landmark. It's just ain't right to feel lonely when you're with a bunch of people. Or bored when all you've been doing lately is partying. _

_If I didn't know better, I'd think I missed doing Eyes Only missions. How twisted would that be?_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

Knocking gently as she let herself in, Max called to the darkened apartment…"Logan! You here? Logan?" But not even the tap of computer keys greeted her. Frowning as she pondered where he could be on a Thursday night, Max crept farther into the apartment, wondering if she could glean any information from his belongings.

She noticed that there were no dishes drying in the rack like there usually were when he cooked, which probably meant he'd had dinner elsewhere. She also noticed the faint smells of aftershave, a sure sign that he'd actually given in to the ever present scruffiness of his face and attempted to tame it slightly.

An unwelcome thought began to swirl in Max's mind, and deciding she didn't want be there if Logan decided to bring some honey home with him, she turned to leave. She'd only made it a few paces when the ping from the elevator signaled an arrival to the penthouse floor. Briefly, she considered hiding, but dismissed that thought as beneath her – it wasn't her fault if her presence ruined the mood.

Hearing the gun Logan often carried cocked, the unlocked apartment door signaling some sort of invasion, she called out to him. "Put the gun away. It's just me, Logan."

"Max?" Logan's tall form suddenly made an appearance and he smiled at her. "Sorry. Can never be too careful. What brings you here?"

"Just stopped by to see how you were doing." Max stated, her eyes briefly sweeping down over his form, noticing the less casual dress wear. Feigning nonchalance she asked: "So where were you?"

"The better question," he said, as he gracefully walked from the foyer into the kitchen, setting a Styrofoam container on the counter. "would be where haven't I been. This afternoon's travels have taken me to sectors 4 through 9 and many places in between."

His mood was light-hearted and playful, the way he'd been down by the waterfront that day that now seemed like a life-time ago.

"Here." He said, pushing the container in her direction and taking a fork from the drawer to give with it. "This is for you."

She couldn't help the pleased smile that spread over her features; she loved surprises, "What's this?"

"A little something to persuade you to help me," he answered, a twinkle in his eyes as he noticed her pleasure.

"And how, Logan Cale, did you know that your genetically enhanced cat burglar would be here to bribe when you got back?"

"I didn't. But I was going to page you, and figured I needed something to compensate for pulling you away from Crash…" _and Kurt_. The last part went unsaid, hanging between. A fact they both studiously ignored.

"Mmm… a cherry tart." Max murmured as she peered down at the pastry. "So what's the price tag for this?"

"Well…it just so happens I went and had a visit with one of my friends from the basketball games, Joe."

Max looked at him with interest, aware that Logan had avoided contact with anyone who'd known him in the chair since his miraculous recovery. The visit was one of a few signs indicating the change in attitude she'd sensed come over him in the past few weeks. It was like he was finally making peace with some inner demons.

"Anyway, it got me to thinking about how selfish I've been with all this. I mean, here I am, walking around without the use of the cane I brought with me to make it seem like I was still recovering, and he's done nearly 15 years in the chair."

"Your situation was unique," Max reminded him, a little anxious for where this was headed.

"No, you're unique, Max. And I'm just the lucky guy who happens to know you," he smiled down at her, causing Max's heart beat to speed-up. It reminded her of when he'd first stood for her. Clearing his throat, Logan pulled back from the intimate gaze and continued. "But, I thought about how the technology that helped me get back on my feet isn't. Vertes said it herself; the technology wasn't new. It came out of the last decade."

"And it required a Manticore blood transfusion to work." Max repeated, trying to put a cap on his enthusiasm.

"I know, but still, we have an invaluable piece of information. We know it works!"

"For people who've been in the chair for less than a year. Logan, remember that with spinal cord injuries the first year is critical. Recoveries that seem miraculous can occur after people think the damage is permanent, which is why people believe that you could still recover naturally."

Logan couldn't help but notice that her words were further evidence that Max had researched his condition, that at some point she'd cared enough to look into it. Doing his best to push that thought aside, along with all the other dreamed of implications, he continued: "Only people who didn't know it was a full break. And it was, I recovered from a fully severed spinal cord injury."

"I know."

"Think about it Max. I know the methods, at least in the generic sense, that Vertes used. We also know that stem-cell enriched blood regenerates the spine. If Manticore had the technology to make human beings, surely the technology to manufacture blood… or stem cells, can't be far off."

"And you always have a transgenic blood-donor if the need arose," Max added, sure that this was where he was headed.

"No. We don't." his voice was surprisingly sharp. "That's not what I needed you for. In fact, I don't want you anywhere near where I'm going with this Max."

Surprised washed over her features, and Logan determinedly pushed on: "I want to set up a foundation, sponsored by Cale Industries and headed by Sam Carr that would look into spinal cord regeneration. I've already spoken to him and he's agreed. Uncle Jonas, after some threats about using my shares to vote against company policies, as well as a promise that most of the funding will come from my part of the trust, has agreed to lend the family name. We can use what we know about the process, as well as Sebastian's connections into the scientific field to put together a small group of researchers who know the actual story behind my recovery."

"And I need to stay away from this why?" Max inquired, crossing her hands in front of her chest.

"Because I don't want any hint of transgenic involvement getting back to Manticore. We need to do everything we can to make this seem like any other foundation, set up by a rich playboy, who had a brush with paralysis."

"And how exactly are you going to keep Vertes from blowing the whistle on you? She's not going to be too happy about you passing off her research as your foundation's."

"Tough. The woman can't come forward without drawing a Manticore bull's eye on her forehead, and she knows it. This information is way too important to keep it from the public. Think how many live it could change!"

Pausing a minute to process that argument, Max went over the logistics again attempting to come up with any foreseeable issues before finally conceding.

"I have to admit, Logan, I'm pretty impressed. You might just do something amazing with this."

He grinned at her, pleased by her compliment. "Well let's not get ahead of ourselves. While I might have some idea what the chemical compounds she used on me were, I have no idea what the percentage breakdowns of those chemicals are."

"Hmm… and you're sure I can't get involved?" Max teased, glancing up as she put another spoonful of cherry tart in her mouth.

"Max?"

"Photographic memory… remember?"

"You know what she used?"

"Let's just say after the trick with Jace and the rat, I wasn't about to let her pump you full of drugs unless I knew what they were."

Her concerned actions touched him and before he could help himself, Logan stepped forward, closing the personal space between them and reverently murmuring, "God, Max, you're incredible!"

For a few heart beats they continued to stare at one another, the body heat being exchanged between them going up a few degrees, before Max finally had the sense to step back and shrug. "No big dealio. So what was it you needed me to do in addition to writing down the chemical compounds?"

Swallowing down his emotions, Logan's voice returned to its usual pitch, "While Sam has most of my medical records, and the electronic one's I can change myself, there are probably some paper copies stored at the emergency room I was treated at. I want to clean up any potential loose ends before we begin, and so I was wondering if I could impose on you to grab them for me."

"I think that can be arranged." Max smiled, pleased to be in the loop again. "So, do-gooding without the Eyes Only mask? You'd better watch out otherwise who you might give Jonas cause to think of you as more than a free-thinking bum."

Rolling his eyes, Logan reached up to grab a glass to fill with water. "I think he'll manage to find a way to keep his good opinion of me."

With his eyes distracted, Max shifted uncomfortably, taking a great interest in the counter top, before stating, "So… you need those files tonight or can we hang out or something?"

In a surprised, but pleased voice he responded, turning toward her: "No rush on the files, but I figured you'd be anxious to get back to Crash."

"Nah… nothing really going on tonight, unless you count a contest to guess the number of jelly beans in a jar. Was kinda in the mood for a game of chess."

Giving her a curious look, Logan agreed: "Sure. I'll go get the board."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Crash….**

"I mean she's great, don't get me wrong," was Kurt's drunken comment as he talked to an equally as inebriated Sketchy and Original Cindy. "It's just sometimes I feel like she can't cut loose and relax."

"I would advise you to let it go, man" was Sketchy's comment. "Many before you have tried and failed to understand the mystery of Max Guevara."

"Ain't nothing wrong with my homegirl," OC slurred. "Ssshe just mysterious."

"And smart," added Sketchy. "Good thing you entered her guess."

"Mmm… here's to Max," Kurt stated as he raised his glass, "a woman able to make a night complete, even if she isn't here to share in the free beer."

"Here, here," yelled Sketchy, who managed to dump some of his beer down his shirt. OC was barely able to lift her glass.

"She answer her pager?" Kurt asked.

"Nah, but girlfriend is usually out of touch when she goes to see Logan."

Kurt let out a short laugh of disbelief, "Should I be concerned that my girlfriend is spending the night with a rich, good-looking male-friend and that she apparently didn't feel the need to tell me about it?"

"I'd put my foot down, if I were you." Sketchy mumbled before laying his head down on the table.

"Don't take it personally, boo." OC attempted to temporized, realizing she'd probably just jammed her friend up. "Max probably didn't even intend to head to hotboy's pad tonight; she usually just ends up there to talk philosophy or some such nonsense."

"So they're platonic?" Kurt asked, revealing a level of soberness that neither Sketchy nor OC was able to match.

"Yeah." OC chuckled, drawing a deeper frown from Kurt. "I'm serious. Max has always held ss…steady in her 'we're not like that' definition of their relationship. Even if she's the only one who believes it."

Registering the undertones of that, Kurt stared thoughtfully at his beer, refraining from sharing his thoughts any further.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers….**

Soft music played in the background, as Max let out a triumphant laugh, "Check mate."

"Do you get any challenge out of this at all, Max? Or do you just enjoy the thrill of battering around my fragile male ego?" Logan kidded, as he leaned back and stretched his arms behind his head.

Neither his words nor his actions sat comfortably with Max.

She did find their chess games mentally stimulating – if predictable in their outcome; far more so than any of her conversations in the last few days and his words reminded her of that.

The stretching was a different issue. It made her awkwardly aware of his physical presence. There was something about Logan's movements ever since getting out of the chair that seemed more limber – and self-assured. Like before he'd been holding himself in such tight control that one could see it in the lines of his shoulders, but now he was growing more and more relaxed with each passing day.

"Beats listening to how Sketchy accidentally got his fingers stuck in his bike lock. I mean how many ways can the guy do something stupid before its yesterday's news?"

"I can see how that'd get old," Logan acknowledged.

"Tell me about it. And not just Sketchy either. It seemed like tonight was a rehash of the same three conversations we've been having for the past two weeks. How many times do we have to discuss which Seattle club plays the best music? I love my friends and one-on-one they're great: OC is insightful about people, Herbal is spiritual, even Sketchy has his moments of wisdom… or at least not idiocy. But when we're all together this general sense of repetition seems to settle over us."

Logan smiled at her, but didn't offer any words. He'd be happy to listen to her vent, but criticizing the way her friends spent their free hours wasn't exactly his place.

Feeling a bit unsure about her thoughts, Max asked: "That ever happen to you? You get bored, I mean, with doing or talking about the same stuff all the time?"

"Ha. I grew up with the Seattle elite whose idea of dinner talk was about money, who's dating who, money… and did I mention, money. What do you think?" Logan teased.

Max smiled at his words, but decided to rephrase her question: "I mean with your friends. Before you got too busy saving the world, did you ever… I don't know, find yourself fed up with the usual diversions?"

Logan eyed her carefully. Every once in a while, Max would ask a covert question or make a self-directed barb that had to do with her insecurity with her own humanity. It had taken Logan a while before he'd realized that the genetically enhanced killing machine comments weren't just jokes to her, that they sheltered a deeper anxiety.

"Yeah. You could say that. Not too many of the frat boys at Yale were interested in art or classical music. It may come as a shock to you, but I did use to hang out at the local pub a lot, playing pool and hitting on pretty women." Max smiled at that. "But sometimes I'd get tired of it; go work on an article, read a book, be by myself, or even hang out with one of my friends who wasn't a part of the east-coast ivy league culture."

"Did you ever date someone like that? Someone you got bored with I mean." Max asked as casually as possible.

Logan tried to keep his tone light, knowing she'd never discuss what was bothering her in anything but the abstract. "I dated this girl once. Now, what was her name…"

Max gave herself a private smile, secure in the knowledge that no matter what life brought them Logan Cale would never begin a sentence like: 'There was this genetically enhanced girl I once knew. What was her name?'

Max guessed being normal did have a few drawbacks.

"Tara. No wait. Mara. That's right, Mara. Anyway, I started dating her right after Daphne broke it off. She had this care-free, seize the day, attitude about her that was very appealing at the time. Every night we went out and did something. Go to a new club or restaurant. We often ended up doing something spontaneous: like drive to Canada or go to a tattoo parlor…"

Max's eyes quirked up in disbelief, even as she felt the tiny flickering of jealousy in her gut.

"She got the tattoo, not me." Logan clarified. "Anyway, it was a lot of fun at first. But I don't know… it started to seem trivial or…"

"Shallow?" Max offered, refusing to meeting Logan's penetrating and knowing gaze.

"Yeah, that would be a good word. We just weren't connecting, so I broke it off despite my fellow guy friends challenging my masculinity."

Answering the question in Max's eyes, he explained, "She was attractive."

"How'd she take it?" Max asked.

"Surprisingly, she was pretty upset. I thought I was just a good time to her, you know the rich boyfriend who paid for everything. Turns out she thought we had something special." He shrugged. "It wasn't my intention to hurt her."

Max nodded, processing the words.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked. Logan wasn't totally sure he could handle this conversation. That he could be the 'friend' she needed, but he'd try, for her.

In reply, Max got up and walked to the window, staring out at Seattle.

Softly she started: "I've been accused of being a female fog bank. That I can't let anyone get close to me."

Logan didn't say anything, but waited for her to continue.

"Thing is. They were right. I am. The second I feel someone breaking down the barrier, I run. Most of the time I don't even give someone the opportunity to get close enough to try."

"Hard to tell someone about your origins."

"Yeah. Easier to just lose yourself in things you know won't work."

Logan thought he'd been following the conversation up until this point. He was fairly sure Max was trying to tell him that Kurt and her were getting closer and she was debating telling him about Manticore. But now he wasn't so sure. He wanted to turn her, so she'd look him in the eyes. To see if she meant she was purposely sabotaging her relationship with the other man, or something else…

"Max…" he began, fully intent on getting some further clarification, when she abruptly turned to him with blank eyes, her defenses up.

"Anyway, I got blaze. Thanks for dessert. I'll get those files to you ASAP, and we should probably set up a meeting with Sam so I can tell him what I remember. Late."

And just like that, she was gone. If he didn't know better, he'd say she ran.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**Market…**

With moody eyes Max surveyed the fruits and vegetables in front of her. The market rang with activity as people all around her attempted to barter, sell, buy, and steal – the usual workings of the Pre-Pulse society. However, Max's thoughts were far removed from the traffic, instead focusing the handful of scenes that had played out in the last twenty-four hours.

Last night was supposed to be a date-night for her and Kurt. Dinner, movie, a club or two. He'd been planning it out all week with an eye for detail that the free-loving young man rarely bothered with. It was one of several clues that led Max to believe he'd intended the night to move them into the next stage of their relationship. A move that was, perhaps, long-overdue given the amount of time they'd spent together.

However, things hadn't gone as planned, and for that, Max knew, she was at least partly to blame. Although Logan had told her there was no rush on the medical files, Max had felt the need to get them yesterday, a task she had put off until an hour before she was suppose to meet with Kurt.

She should have known it would take longer, and perhaps on some level she did, but when she'd showed up to dinner an hour late – after a surprisingly close call with hospital security – Kurt had been less than thrilled.

For ruining that part of the evening, Max had acknowledged her culpability, and apologized to the best of her X5 ability, knowing that Kurt was still suspicious of her undefined "errand". However, her lingering sense of guilt had soon turned to annoyance when Kurt had announced they needed to rush dinner in order to get across town to a club, where he'd promised to meet one of his many friends.

The situation wasn't unusual. Most nights they went out, Max found that Kurt had arranged to meet up with someone or attend some event, it was his thing. But on this night, Max had been looking forward to a more private, quiet evening together. One where they could actually talk, and Max could try and figure out what she felt for the guy who everyone called her boyfriend.

If Kurt sensed her irritation, he didn't comment directly, but had done his best to be lively and outgoing when they'd reached the club, where they had lingered for hours. It had occurred to Max somewhere around 1:30 a.m. that Kurt was planning to stay until last call, and that if she had been the regular girl that Kurt believed her to be, it would have made her 6 a.m. wakeup call for work the next day a bitch.

The thought had irritated her, as she knew Kurt fully intended to come over to her place when they were done. It was what had fueled her resolve to approach him and say, "Listen I've got work early tomorrow so I'm gonna bounce."

She had fully expected him to respond with his usual jovial cajoling, asking her to stay for just one more drink, ten more minutes, but the words never came. Instead, he'd asked casually, "You actually heading home, or heading over to Cale's for late night _conversation_?"

His tone wasn't angry, it was insinuating, as if he was telling a good joke. It was, however, more than enough to send Max's defensive system on high alert.

"Excuse me?" she had bit off sarcastically, a warning tone to anyone who knew her.

He had laughed outright at her annoyance. "That's where you go sometimes, right? It's where you headed the other night and didn't bother to tell me."

He was drunk, Max realized, and upset, though he was attempting to hide it through his humor. He'd probably been ticked off with her since the other night at Crash, and today's events had only added to his frustration.

"Nothing is going on with Logan," she finally responded.

"So I hear. You're not _like that_. Although I'm not completely sure what "that" means, Max. Care to enlighten me?"

Max didn't answer, perhaps couldn't answer, and after a moment or two of her silence Kurt pressed forward, apparently more upset by her lack of explanation.

"Does _that_ mean physically, Max? He's not taking you to bed, but you two can spend all night mentally screwing each other?" Kurt inquired pointedly. "Cuz we are supposedly like _that,_ but as far as I can tell, the only thing we've got going on that's any different than what you're not doing with Cale is some time spent making out on your couch."

His actions bewildered Max, who under normal circumstances would have told him to take a dive off a high building. However, her own confusion – over both him and Logan –had her second guessing herself. She knew Kurt was a good guy, even if his current words seemed to contradict that notion.

Max didn't have a legitimate reply, so she did what she did best, replied with confrontational sarcasm: "You know what?" she bite off. "I'll leave you to ponder out the meaning of that little puzzle. This girl is going to go home and get some shut eye before her 6 a.m. wake up call."

It was easier to run than to answer the questions Kurt had asked her. And in truth, Max was more than just angry, she was also hurt. She'd been trying hard to be what Kurt wanted, to give herself a normal life, and to let go of whatever Logan and her were. But apparently, it hadn't been enough.

She'd turned to go then, feeling the signs of defeat and frustration, when suddenly Kurt's hand clamped around hers.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to having to try so hard for a girl, Max."

When Max finally looked him in the eyes, Kurt had continued, "It's like I'm only getting part of you, and I guess I'm just worried Cale's getting the rest."

Max looked down into her supposed boyfriend's eyes and noted the sincerity amidst the alcoholic blur. Preventing herself from letting out the sigh of frustration she had felt building, she instead responded, albeit stiffly, "It's fine. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

It was a line she'd heard many fighting couples at Crash utter. A phrase that seemed to fix everything, at least temporarily; although, Max had never seen the point in it. Tonight, however, she understood as the words had the desired effect.

Kurt nodded in agreement before tugging her down for a quick kiss on the lips. "Okay. We'll talk tomorrow." Giving her a slight smile, he turned and disappeared into a crowd of friends, the anticlimactic conclusion to a melodramatic build up.

Although Kurt didn't know it, he'd managed to do something few others had. Through the quick turn of events, he'd stunned an X5 into immobility.

_Is this what regular girls do?_ Max had asked herself as she watched him go, her eyes wide and her mind turning furiously to process the stream of illogical data.

If so, it was exhausting.

XXX

So now, as Max's eyes scanned the crowd for her intended target, she was simultaneously processing two lines of data. On the one hand, she was noting the usual haunts of her affluent associate – looking to see if he was anywhere amid the array of fruits and vegetables, meats and proteins, herbs and spices, needing to remind herself that she was no longer looking for a familiar shiny chair, but a tall, leather clad back. On the other, she was noting the various interactions between the couples that met with her gaze, paying particular attention to the way they related.

All shapes and sizes, colors and combinations, met with Max's gaze – and they all seemed to blur together in a cacophonous rainbow. Too variegated even for her processing capacity, Max needed to separate individual twosomes from the masses.

Using her heightened vision, Max decided to zoom in on several different pairs who caught her eye, recognizing the patterns of human interaction that she had qualified long ago.

Over by a booth selling beads was a curvy woman in her mid-thirties leaning seductively over the counter to barter with an older, stammering man who was in possession of the object she wanted. That association to easy to classify, Max thought, she'd seen the exchange of sexuality for material objects all her life and had often been propositioned to take part in it.

Over by the fish monger, was a young couple, holding gloved hands and whispering in one another ears' as they debated the wares in front of them. To Max, they represented a symbiotic being – two halves that fit into a larger whole. For many years, this type of relationship had fascinated her, coming closer to the interaction between her and her siblings than anything she had seen. However, the risks inherent in such a connection were easily discernable. Even as she watched, the nondescript man gestured toward a particular variety of fish in the corner, seemingly unaware of the woman's scrunched up face and reluctant acceptance of the proposition. It was obvious what the woman had done… compromise. Compromise of self, of person, and in Max's case – what would ultimately amount to compromise of safety and anonymity. It was a price she'd never been willing to pay, despite the attraction this state of being held for her.

As her as flittered over to another couple, this one slightly older and bickering, unable to maintain the compromise exhibited by the other, Max wondered if this – their problem - wasn't her own.

Not just an unwillingness to compromise with the information about her origin, but also an unwillingness to part with that sense of self that dictated her own actions. In other words, her freedom. Manticore had screwed her up but good, and Max couldn't help but wonder if her problems with Kurt didn't stem from an inability to give up what had once been an unattainable yearning.

Her need for freedom was something Max had never been able to express with words. It came out in her passion for her motorcycle, her love of high, remote places, her sardonic attitude toward those who got in her way. It was intrinsic to her being, and necessary for her survival. And yet, it was also something Max was beginning to suspect would make it impossible to connect with others.

At least most others.

Friends seemed able to understand, to comprehend that her pursuit of space was not an insult directed at them. Original Cindy, despite her curious nature, respected Max's need to be in her own head space. Neither Kendra, nor the other Jam Pony gang saw her biting attitude as weird or aberrant.

It was only the few men with whom Max had crossed the friendship barrier who seemed offended by her distance. As if her autonomy was a personal affront to their claim of ownership. As if sleeping with them bound her to some contractual agreement that she hadn't been aware of making. It had always smelled too much like the direct proprietary Manticore had exercised over her and her siblings to ever sit comfortably with Max.

And she suspected it was what was upsetting Kurt now.

Max sighed in frustration. She was all too aware her relationship with Logan had fit none of her previous paradigms. He was neither totally friend nor business partner. He wasn't completely platonic, but nor was he her lover.

Logan, the guy who not only seemed to respect her decision to watch the world from a distance, but to also to share a similar desire for solitude and space, had tilted her world on edge. And beyond his ideology, Max had to admit, there was something about the man that had drawn her in. Something about their interactions, their banter, the way they worked and fought, which left her wondering if people born of very different circumstances, and with two very different compositions of DNA, might somehow be alike enough to form a real connection.

It was that thought which kept her watching as the middle-age woman snapped at the man what looked to be the word "fine". A huffing 'fine' that seemed to signal the end of their fight, and the ultimate failure of two people's merged worlds, a word that signaled anything by what the syllables actually dictated. A year ago Max would have turned away with wry amusement, aware of the world's seedy underbelly, but today she continued to watch as the man pointed out to the fishmonger, not his choice, but his wife's. Max noticed the small smile that crept up on the woman's face and saw as she added another set of directions to the annoyed shop-owner. Max didn't need to wait long to see what had been said.

Two different types of fillets, very small, were chosen that day. Of little significance to the world of Seattle commerce, but an unlooked for symbol of hope to one woman contained within its borders.

Maybe, just maybe, Max thought, it wasn't about compromise, it was about someone willing to let you buy your own type of fish…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max wasn't the only one struggling with her identity or groceries that day. A few booths over, Logan Cale gave the woman behind the counter a smile he hoped conveyed a polite disinterestedness.

Since turning down the advances of the salesgirl after the momentous morning in Jam Pony when he had come face to face with the "evidence" of Kurt and Max's relationship, Logan had studiously been avoiding his favorite grocer's stand, hoping to avoid an awkward meeting with the young woman in question.

Not that he thought his rejection would be a big deal to her, it was just that her amorous advances coupled with the earlier encounter with Max had brought to light a plethora of realizations that Logan wasn't eager to reflect on. Most notable among them had been his newly exposed feelings for the cat burglar in his life.

Odd that it had taken something as common as a flirtation to make him come to grips with so many extraordinary and disturbing events over the past few months. Perhaps all he had needed was a trigger…

XXX

When the woman had begun to flirt with him that day, Logan had needed to bite back a scowl, sure that she had chosen him as an easy mark for some sort of scam. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dealt with such individuals since landing in the chair, and after the events in Jam Pony, Logan was even less willing to grin and bear it the way he had Max's growing relationship with another man.

It had taken a few minutes for Logan to recognize that his presumption was, obviously, false. It took even longer for Logan to place the lingering glances and sensual smiles that the woman was sending him. He had felt like his brain was surfacing from an extended period underwater as it slowly processed the signs of sexual innuendo. When the woman had casually mentioned she'd like to take him to dinner, Logan's reaction had once again been instinctive - a stammering 'no' followed by a partial explanation "I'm with someone", followed by a wave of guilt at having mislead the woman into thinking he was interested.

It had taken two hours in front of his picture windows before he'd recognized the truth in his words. He was with someone. She just wasn't with him.

The night he'd met Max, a powerful jolt of awareness between them had left him scrambling to shove her into one of few boxes he had left for women in his life. Logan had chosen the box labeled for Eyes Only – unable to justify a sexual relationship that he was, nevertheless, not opposed to starting in the distant future. His actions had mimicked his callous attitude, even as a small part of him had called out a note of warning.

It had taken a few months to recognize where the warning had come from. Max's vulnerabilities were well hidden, but apparent to an observant eye. And despite his denials, Logan knew that the unique and inexplicable bond existed between them – one he would have liked to explore in every sense if only his faculties had not been impaired.

It was but one of the many attitudes Logan had attempted to break recently. If he was ever going to be with Max, even theoretically, he needed to get his own internal house in order. She'd had enough of turbulence and chaos and leftover scraps of broken things – she deserved more. And currently, that faculty which was impaired was not his legs, but his heart – and he wanted to be damn sure that if Max ever decided to take what he offered, he could hand her something whole in payment.

XXX

Since that day, Logan had spent his time as wisely as possible, making amends to his internal demons by forcing himself to concentrate on those things he had avoided. He had gone back to the basketball court, albeit on a day he knew Kurt didn't frequent, greeting his wheelchair bound friends with a shame filled humbleness that soon gave way under their heart-felt well wishes and subtle hints that many recognized he hadn't been adjusting well.

He'd later spent time examining his guilt and found the source to be both his shame at his own disability as well as the Manticore discovered treatment that he'd utilized. He couldn't take either of those things back, so he did what he did best, found a way to help others through his own resources.

On a personal level, he'd tried to stop reproaching himself, even as he found himself sitting in front of his window remembering the hardened look in Max's eyes as she'd explained the way her seven year old self had ruthlessly had leg broken in the name of research by the very woman manipulating his body into healing. He couldn't comfort the child Max had been, but he could give the adult she become space to explore her relationship with a young man who seemed to make her smile.

And after Max's visit two nights ago, he had also realized he could continue to be her friend – providing her with the occasion cherry tart, listening ear, and willing victim of her chess strategy.

It would be enough for him, Logan had determined, even has he had made his way back to this his favorite booth under the message that Don had scored some porcini mushrooms that would allow him to fix a dish one of his specialties for Max.

Facing the woman behind the counter was, Logan determined, just one more hurtle that he needed to face. It was time to remember the young man he'd been, the one who didn't mind spending a afternoon harmlessly flirting with a pretty face. Like most things, Logan figured it was just another aspect of his life that he was determined to regain.

XXX

"So what can I do for you?" the woman behind the counter asked with a smile, breaking into his thoughts and removing the need for an opening line.

Logan smiled back, grateful for the breezy casualness of her address.

"Don tells me there are porcini mushrooms to be had," he responded, stepping fully up to the counter.

"Personal call from the boss? You must be quite the customer," she replied, running a hand through her blond spiral curls to push them off her face.

"You could say that," Logan stated obliquely.

She paused for half a heart beat as if waiting for more of a response, before looking down below the counter, presumably where the mushrooms were located. It reminded Logan once again how inept he'd become at interacting with other people and how he needed to reassert himself if he was going to regain his rapport with women.

Logan attempted to break the pattern by adding, "He knows I like to cook."

The small statement drew another smile from his sunny cashier, who straightened up and leaned forward, as if speaking conspiratorially, "And apparently, don't mind waiting around for the finer ingredients."

"Well, I suppose everyone has their own indulgence," Logan offered, smiling gamely.

"Hmmm… that we do," she stated lowly, giving him a slight wink before straightening up and asking in a normal tone. "So what are you planning on making with this particular indulgence?"

"A take on a vegetable Bolognese sauce, I found some mascarpone cheese at another counter," he shrugged, this was one realm he felt totally comfortable in.

"You know if you wanted to forgo the vegetable part, I hear the booth four down has some beef under the counter," she confided.

"Really?" Logan asked playfully, adding a note of disbelief to extend their conversation.

"Cross my heart," the woman dutifully returned.

"Well…" Logan paused.

"Caroline," she supplied on cue.

"Well, Caroline, I just may have to look into that. Thank you," Logan didn't know it, but the smile he gave in return was the type of wide, brilliant grin that had caused many a lady's heart to speed up in turn, drawing attention to his handsome features.

Unknowingly, it hit the unintended mark.

"That dish sounds sinful…"

"Logan."

"Logan." She acknowledged, winking at him. "So…how exactly does a girl angle an invited to such a delicious meal, with such a handsome man to cook it for her?"

Logan chuckled wryly, amused despite himself at her forthrightness. "I suppose you'd need to be my intended target for that sin," he bantered back.

"Hmm… and I suppose that would depend on your mysterious girlfriend still being in the picture," the woman flashed back, continuing to smile even as she scrutinized his reaction.

Again, Logan found himself impressed with her style, a willingness to make him slightly uncomfortable to gain her objective. It reminded him of another female of his acquaintance.

"Girlfriend would be a bit strong. We're not exactly like that," Logan confided, unsure of why he did so. Perhaps, he was simply interested in seeing what would happen, he had forgotten how fun flirtation could be. "But she is my intended victim," he acknowledged.

"So is she willing to share?" Caroline asked seductively, making sure her double meaning was crystal clear.

"Sure, sweetie, just don't expect me to drink out of the same glass," Max quipped, stepping up to the booth and into their conversation.

XXXXX

**Market, five minutes prior…**

Max's annoyed eyes scanned the crowd one more time. What would Lydecker say now if he knew his million dollar prize soldier had trouble finding her target in the produce section? she wondered wryly.

She'd been to all of Logan's favorite haunts, but had yet to locate him and it was beginning to try her patience. How many places could he be?

Adding to that was the overload of primate relationship data that she was currently suffering from. Once she'd become aware of the different types of couples populating the market it felt like she couldn't get away from all the lust and love crowding into her head space. Even now, she couldn't help but notice the teenage boys over by the cement wall, showing off for the crowd of girls by the flower booth – all parties having obviously ditched school. Or the guy with the hair plugs asking out the woman with the pink scrunchie over by meat stand. Did bad hair accessories mutually attract? Or even the attractive blond shop girl working at Don's place, whose body language bespoke real interest in the hoodie wearing customer she was talking to.

Drawing closer to the Logan frequented place, Max finally heard something that _did_ interest her.

"_You know if you wanted to forgo the vegetable part, I hear the booth four down has some beef under the counter."_

Now that was the kind of information Max could do something with. She almost felt sorry for the chum who'd gotten the intel. She planned to be long gone and on her way to Fogle Towers before he could get anywhere near the contraband.

"_Really?" _

The flirtatiously toned reply came, literally stopping Max in her tracks. She knew that voice.

"_Cross my heart," _

"_Well…"_

"_Caroline," _

"_Well, Caroline, I just may have to look into that. Thank you," _

Max snorted disdainfully to herself as she watched Caroline literally preen with delight at his compliment. The woman could bat her eye lashes all she wanted, but one way or another it was Max's stomach which that beef was going to make its home in.

"_That dish sounds sinful…"_

Oh, please.

"_Logan."_

"_Logan. So…how exactly does a girl angle an invited to such a delicious meal, with such a handsome man, to cook it for her?"_

The laugh that Logan gave the woman's audacious comment made the tiny hairs of the back of Max's neck stand up and she felt a small growl gather in the back of her throat.

"_I suppose you'd need to be my intended target for that sin."_

"_Hmm… and I suppose that would depend on your mysterious girlfriend still being in the picture."_

Huh?

"_Girlfriend would be a bit strong. We're not exactly like that."_

Oh.

"_But she is my intended victim."_

Damn straight. Unless, this Caroline chickie kept trying to get between her and Logan's cooking… then she'd be Max's victim.

"_So is she willing to share?" _

Max had had enough.

"Sure, sweetie, just don't expect me to drink out of the same glass," she quipped, stepping up to the booth and into their conversation.

XXXX

"Oh, hey Max," Logan nodded to her, far too use to being snuck up on to let it bother him for long.

Giving the woman who was watching them with keen interest what could only be described as a fake, fast smile Max, nodded off a fast "hey" before turning her attention on Logan.

"Almost didn't recognize you," Max replied, letting her questioning eyes, walking down his sweat-shirt clad body, do the asking.

"Yeah, well I just on a run when I remembered Don had some new items in," Logan supplied.

"So this is you after a work out?" Caroline choose to contribute, interested in regaining her footing in the discussion. "The showered version must be impressive."

The glint in Max's eyes and the bent of the conversation, through Logan Cale off enough so he needed to clear his throat before responding.

"Caroline, here, was just recommending an addition to a dish I was hoping to cook tonight. Interesting in coming by?"

"Well, I kinda had plans for tonight… so…" she didn't exactly, but Max was in the mood to draw out one of Logan's accommodating offers to postponement, the type that he'd been giving her ever since that first night with Vertes. A small part of her wanted to give this girlie behind the counter a show and let her know whose territory she was stepping on.

It was the same instinct that had her setting Cindy on Daphne during Logan's cousin's wedding. In Max's mind, purely a feline thing.

It was a respond that she soon regretted as she Logan's expression darken slightly in disappointment, before opening his mouth to give what Max assumed would be the obligatory response.

Instead, what came out was one, slightly harsh word: "Kurt?"

It wasn't quite a question, but nor was it just a statement.

Max found herself unsure of what to say, the look in Logan's eyes was more than simply friendly interest, they nearly burned with an acute intensity, an intensity that Max, despite herself, felt drawn to.

"I.."

"So you two aren't dating?" Caroline, jumped in, having obviously been following the conversation.

Both Logan and Max blinked it sudden surprise, temporarily forgetting they had had an audience. Again, Max felt the words stick to the roof of her mouth, refusing to come out. Of course her and Logan weren't "like that." They both knew it, and so she should have had no problem articulating that to the woman in front of them. But still, the look on Logan's face as he instead turned back to her, waiting for her to answer rather than doing so on his own, left Max reeling.

"I'm seeing someone," she finally replied, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the next.

"Kurt?" the woman echoed.

"Kurt." Max affirmed.

"Well, in that case," Caroline replied, her voice taking on an extra shade of cheerfulness, "I _love_ Italian food."

Neither Logan nor Max replied to the obvious come-on, too wrapped up in their own ambiguous staring contest.

It was only after an inappropriate few moments had passed that Logan turned to the woman, aware that she deserved an answer. He never got the chance. Seeing Logan open his mouth to the woman made something inside Max snap – and she found herself responding to Caroline with a fake peppiness that startled the cyber journalist.

"Really? Because so does Kurt. I mean he loves Italian food and company," Max bubbled, smiling at the woman, even as a spark of predatory sport reflected in her eyes.

"That is _so_ great," Caroline babbled back, sensing an opening in the game. "The four of us should get together sometime. Perhaps, go to this great Italian place down in Sector 3 I know. But, in the meantime…" she turned her eyes to Logan, "if you want…"

"Oh, I'm sure the restaurant is unnecessary. What do you say, Logan? Up for feeding two additional mouths?" Max interrupted, not bothering to stipulate who the additional mouths were.

"Max, I…" Logan began.

"Great. The usual time? 8 o'clock?"

"I…" the one abbreviated word reflecting all his bewilderment

"Where?" Caroline asked Max.

"Sector nine, Elm Street, Fogle Towers, penthouse."

There was no mistaking the smile of satisfaction that shone on Caroline's face, and briefly, Max wondered if her spur of the moment plan to… to. What had she been trying to accomplish exactly?

Oh, she remembered… get Kurt to see Logan was no threat, show Logan they could be just friends again, and get blondie here a good meal she seemed so antsy for while simultaneously watching Logan's back, was perhaps not as well-considered as planned.

Still as she said her lates, the shell shocked look on Logan's face did much to cheer her up. Wasn't every day, Mr. Eyes Only was shocked speechless.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXStopping the beta here – I think that was the only new stuff, right? Let me know if I missed anything.

**Fogle Towers, 1 a.m.**

How the hell had this happened, Logan asked himself for the hundredth time that day. How the hell had he managed to end up on a double date with Max, Kurt, and a woman he barely knew? He was fairly certain he hadn't wanted to do this.

Rubbing his temples, as he continued to lie sprawled out on his couch, Logan thought back to the events that had led to ill-fated dinner party he had just experienced. He remembered the conversation back at the market, as well as a poorly timed bout of possessiveness that had welled up inside him when Max had declined his offer – despite his better intentions.

However, he had no idea how that had someone morphed into an invitation for Caroline and Kurt to his place that night. Something about Italian food…

It hadn't gotten any better from there. He'd found the promised beef he had already been sold – and had needed to work on his original variation, only this time trying to substitute in enough side dishes to make sure everyone had enough to eat.

He'd then had to make fast changes to his apartment, needing to hide away the various advanced computer equipment behind altered and locked sliding opaque doors, and to restructure the other room layouts to once again make them as wheel chair accessible as possible.

Twice he'd cut his fingers while prepping the vegetables, a rookie mistake that had left his left hand ring finger with a conspicuous white bandage. The plus side was he had been so busy with preparation – baring managing to take a shower and dress before the first buzz from down below came – that he'd had little time to consider the actual company.

The fact the buzz was a half an hour early did little to calm him. Still, even as he waited for Caroline Linely to make her way up to penthouse, Logan had cautioned himself against rudeness. The training of early Cale etiquette was still firmly implanted in his head, and even if this "date" wasn't his idea – he knew the woman in question wasn't to blame for the situation she was walking into either.

So, he smiled graciously when she knocked on his door and did his best to ignore the blatant gapping stares the woman made as she walked from the foyer into his kitchen.

"Sorry, I just need to finish up a few things before everyone else gets here. Can I get you anything? A glass of wine perhaps?"

"Sure," she had smiled, a perfectly acceptable answer, and still Logan had felt uncomfortable by her presence.

"So, Logan, what exactly do you do?" she questioned, making him internally wince. Again, a perfectly acceptable form of small talk, but one he usually liked to avoid.

"I'm a journalist," he answered. "A big contributor the Pacific Free Press, when it was opened, and now a freelancer."

"Ooo, have you written for the _Seattle Times_?" she asked.

"Not exactly, I find their political stance a bit… repressive," Logan intoned, taking the opportunity to raise his eye brow and look at her directly as he said it. Old habits were hard to shake, and figuring out this woman's political leanings was like second nature to him.

"Yeah, definitely," she agreed, but gave no further comment. A sign she was more interested in appeasing Logan than in political discussion.

Logan sighed and continued with their shallow small talk, until the bell buzz at 8:15. Unusual for Max to be late to dinner, but he was just grateful he wouldn't be forced to give the tour of his apartment Caroline had just requested.

The second Max and Kurt had entered his place, the room had burst with energy as Kurt had given a hearty shake and a loud: "Cale, buddy, how's it hanging? Found anyone new to hit the courts with?"

Logan frowned up at his ceiling, remembering the way he'd admired the young man's liveliness and brash attitude, even as he ignored how beautiful Max looked that night. For a few short moments, he'd actually been glad to see his old basketball buddy, remember the teasing comments on the court and the way, Kurt had once explained how to do a certain maneuver in his chair. The guy seemed at ease in every situation, and Logan knew that someone like that would be good for Max.

He'd kept that in mind for about five minutes, long enough to hang up coats, and beginning to lead them toward the kitchen, when he noticed Kurt nonchalantly reach up and grip Max's hand, nothing inappropriate, just a short squeeze followed by a light caress that forced Logan to grit his teeth as he went to introduce Caroline.

That had been the start of the disaster. Caroline had, of course, been able to see the new arrivals from her perch in the kitchen, but she had done nothing to hide her disbelieving face at Kurt's wheelchair as she looked from Kurt to Max. It was something all three of them noticed, and it did nothing to add to the mood of the festivities.

Her reaction was more ironic than she knew, Logan thought, as he let out an amused huff that did nothing to improve his headache. He'd spent the majority of his time in the wheelchair, avoiding people like her. The ones who looked at you with pity and morbid fascination, who assumed you couldn't have a normal life, and normal relationship, once you wound up in the chair. He believed those looks more than those of people beside him, the ones like Max and Bling who showed with their every gesture that it didn't really matter. He deserved to be sitting here tonight with Caroline, rather than Max – even if every part of his body screamed out at the way Kurt constantly touched her.

Had he not had the rules of etiquette rigorously engrained in his head during his childhood, he may have even taken a perverse pleasure in the way Caroline was trying to impress him with her idle chatter. Instead, he had remained solicitous of her needs, pulling out her chair, keeping her wine glass filled, asking if she wanted seconds. As natural as breathing, and far more encouraged by his Uncle Jonas.

Still, it seemed to annoy Max, who took every opportunity to make a double edged snarky remark to either Caroline or him. The only difference between the two being Logan understood her double meanings. It was something he refused to look more closely at, reminding himself that she was annoyed with Carolien's reaction to Kurt, not Logan's reaction to her.

Though that didn't seem to explain why she felt the need to cut down every one of Logan's comments.

As the night wore on, Logan hadn't been able to control his responses to Max and had allowed his own frustration to bubble through. They had become engaged in a type of debate conducted entirely through subtext…

"The club was awesome… loud music, great lights, high-class liquor. Seattle must be in a recovery," Kurt had enthusiastically explained.

"Did you like it Max?" Caroline had asked, as if Kurt's word couldn't be believed.

"It was nice," Max had replied. "Not, overflowing with sugar-daddys if that's what you're asking, but nice."

"Nice?" Logan had clipped, recalling their conversation from long-ago.

Max had raised an eyebrow in challenge and Logan had let it drop, but not before telling her, "That place is financed by Steckler's funder."

"Are you sure?" Max had asked, surprised and obviously slightly ashamed by that information.

"Yeah."

"Logan, I didn't know…"

"It's okay, Max." Logan had immediately interjected, embarrassed that had made her feel bad for enjoying her night. "I was just letting you know."

"Who's Steckler?" Kurt had asked, a thoughtful look on his face after watching Max and Logan's interactions.

Logan had looked down at his plate and let Max gently reply, "The mayor."

"Oh," Kurt replied, a bit embarrassed in his own right. "Well, who can keep track of all the crooked politicians today? Might as well enjoy the good time!"

Max had given him a wan smile before taking a large sip of her wine.

Conversations like that had punctuated the evening, drawing out each of their mutual discomfort until Logan had made an excuse – not entirely unjustified – of an early meeting. Caroline had nearly pouted as she left, using every trick in her considerable arsenal to get some kind of future commitment from Logan.

Until Max stepped in. "I hear they only have enough power to make these elevators go all the way up and down twice after midnight. So, you'd better ride down with us before you end up stuck in it all night."

Logan had barely been able to repress the laugh that had threatened to break out at the obvious lie, even allowing a small smile to make its way to the surface as Caroline had agreed in panic. Max had been the last one out of his apartment, giving him an odd look as she softly closed the door.

XXXXX

**Space Needle, 1 a.m.**

Max stared down at the city below her and let the cool wind and familiar view soothe her nerves. Tonight had been confusing, an oozing pot bubbling over with jealousy, repressed sexual tension, mix-matched perspectives, unspoken opinions, and unspoken anger. And Max wasn't exactly sure which emotions belonged to whom.

The only thing that Max knew for sure was that when Kurt pulled up short before entering her apartment, she had been okay with what she knew he was going to say.

"Max, I both care about you and respect you."

Both good phrases, much more convincing then the 'Max you know you're hot.' Or the "Baby, it's me not you,' that she'd heard in the past.

"But I think you and I are looking for different things."

Again, she gave him credit for accuracy.

"I'm not doing this because I think something is currently going on with Cale. But, I do think something has been going on with him since probably the two of you first met."

Astute. Kurt may not have been aware in the Logan sense of the word, but he was a good reader of people.

"Anyway. I want us to remain friends. I think it would be better that way."

Max had expressed her non-verbal agreement as she had leaned in and kissed him goodbye, grateful for the insight their relationship had given her.

Sitting up here now, Max reflected on what she'd learned.

She would probably never be a regular girl, but maybe, just maybe that was okay too…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

With as certain amount of apprehension, Max entered Logan's apartment, peering around the corners as she attempted to gauge what was going on as the phone rang incessantly in the background. For months now, she had come and gone as she pleased in the upscale building, coming to know each of the guards by name as she entered at all times of the day or night. They never stopped her or bothered to ask her about her business, and after time they'd treated her just as one of the building's residents.

That was until today. She'd entered through the parking garage and had just pushed the elevator button for the penthouse, when a blinking of the compartment's lights had signaled that she wasn't going anywhere. Instead, a voice a boomed over the speakers, _"The resident on that floor is out, please come to the front desk and state your name and business."_

The unexpected occurrence had immediately put Max on her guard, as visions of Lydecker having found Logan's apartment filtered through her head. Body on the alert, she'd tipped toed toward the front foyer, looking for any signs that this was a setup.

Instead, she saw nothing but Andy, one of the many watchmen who'd Max become familiar with, watching a monitor as he sipped his coffee. An additional check later, and Max stepped up to the desk, only to be greeted by a smiling watchman who'd told to her the message wasn't for her and that she go ahead and head up to Logan's.

It was all weird enough to keep her on her toes, as she quietly closed Logan's door and peaked around the partition as the phone continued to annoyingly scream out for an uncharacteristically long time. Usually, Logan was efficient in answering.

It made her believe that perhaps he was out, until she checked the area of his office. There she saw Logan seated at his computer, rubbing his temples with a harassed look on his face.

"Gonna answer that?" Max asked, surprised when he didn't jump.

"Hey, Max." he stated with an uncharacteristic weariness to his voice. As if in answer to her unspoken question, Logan responded, "Told the front desk to buzz me with new arrivals."

"Ah," Max stated, figuring that was one answer to a series of questions. Gesturing over slightly to the ringing phone, she lifted her eyebrow and waited for an answer to her first one.

"The machine will get it," was Logan's enigmatic reply, as indeed it did just that.

Soon a female voice filtered through the apartment, as Max watched the frown on Logan's face continue to deepen.

_Hey, Logan. It's me again…Caroline. Sorry to call you again, but I was going to be in near your apartment this afternoon and thought we might get something to eat. Unless you want to cook that is_… a flirty laugh flittered over the answering machine… _maybe I'll just stop by, see if you're around. Anyway… hope to see you soon._

"She liked you." Max observed, doing her best to stifle her amused smile.

Logan crossed his hands in front of his chest, glaring at her.

Max couldn't hold back a small grin, "How many calls?"

"Eight. Now, nine."

Max smile widened, furthering Logan's chagrin.

"Got to admire someone with persistence," Max offered. When Logan didn't respond, she asked, "Persistence the reason for the Fogle Tower's lock down?"

Logan nodded, answering wryly, "Benefit of living in a secure building."

Max couldn't contain her amusement any longer as her shoulders began to shake in silent mirth.

"This is not funny," Logan deadpanned, but as Max continued to laugh her shoulders shaking harder, an answering smile emerged from Logan's harried face. "Well… maybe slightly. For you, anyway."

Max finally paused, long enough to wipe the laughter inspired tears from her eyes, and state in a voice approaching contrition, "Sorry, Logan, didn't know she'd go all female stalker on you."

Mock glaring at her, Logan responded, "She left cookies at the front desk this morning."

Another irrepressible smile broke over Max's features, "Really, really sorry?"

"They were shaped like hearts."

When her chuckles subsided again, Max responded, "Hey, well at least she likes you. I got dumped after our double date."

A two beat pause greeted her statement.

"What? Kurt decided he wanted someone more like Caroline? Prejudice, gold-digging?" Logan bantered, a distinctive glint in his eye as he processed this information and determined Max didn't seem upset by it.

"Hmm… something about wanting someone who could relax. Guess genetically engineered soldiers weren't on his list of people who he could chill with."

"You okay?" Logan asked, searching for any form of avoidance.

"Yeah. I mean he wanted someone more normal, and I guess that's the one thing I couldn't give him," Max replied, realizing she truly was okay with that.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better I think we can safely assume that 100 percent human DNA in a woman doesn't guarantee normal. Nor does it guarantee basic decency," Logan responded, getting to his feet and walking to stand beside Max, searching her expression for sadness. What he saw was curiosity at his words and so to clarify he added. "I'm fairly certain that we can attribute Caroline's persistence to my last name and its implications of wealth."

As if to punctuate his remarks, the buzz of the front desk could suddenly be heard from the foyer.

"_Mr. Cale, just wanted to let you know we told a young lady by the name of Caroline Linnely that you were out. She said she'd try back later."_

Both smiling at the timing, Logan turned the subject, "Speaking of stuff that isn't normal. I've got an Eyes Only meeting this afternoon. Want to sneak out the back with me and act as body guard?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Park outside Fogle Towers…**

The cold breeze filtered past them as they shared an awkward smile.

The meet had gone fine and Matt Sung had passed off some important information regarding the establishment of Logan's foundation. But now, with their objective complete, they had no distractions from one another's presence.

Despite the light hearted mood that had prevailed in Fogle Towers, both were distinctly aware that they had yet to deal with their underlying issues. Even this casual moment, two acquaintances walking through a park together, served to remind them both of how different things were now, Logan with his revitalize legs and Max with her reaffirmed cynical heart.

It also created an odd parallel from one of their first meetings, when Logan had ambushed Max and crash and the two and found their distrustful attraction to still firmly be in place. It kept them both silent, even as they both realized this was the first time they'd been truly alone – without the nearby presence of Vertes or Kurt standing between them.

Finally, in a voice the drawn from the soldier, Max stated: "She was just using you, ya know? Wanted something from you and didn't mind trying to get it through manipulation."

It took Logan a second to process Max's words and to realize she was referencing their earlier conversation about Caroline. It took him less time to understand that her words weren't really about the other woman.

"She wouldn't be the first person," he ventured, determined to understand what Max was trying to tell him.

"No, and she won't be the last." Max stated firmly, the traces of anger beginning to show around the edges.

"I suppose not."

Rough to be wealthy and supposedly-flawless," Max bite off, sarcasm pervading her voice. "Makes you wonder if anyone's in it for person."

Ignoring the sarcasm, Logan waited for the second half of her thought, as he threw out his obligatory response, "Key being _supposedly_."

Her answer came in the form of a one-liner.

"At least you know Bling cared," Max joked without humor.

"I hope he still does," Logan responded, conveying his own meaning about who he wanted to care about him.

Ignoring his answer, Max replied seemingly off-handedly, "Two-way street, manipulation. Caroline might have been using you, but you could have used her right back."

Logan swallowed down the emotion that her comment engendered. Looking her in the eyes, he willed her to believe what he said next, "I'm done manipulating, Max."

Never wavering, Max shot back, "Maybe that's because you already got what you wanted."

Logan shook his head, remorseful that Max thought that of him, "I haven't."

"Then you'd better go chase her down. I think she's hiding behind the newsstand over there," Max abruptly snapped, pointing behind her even as she walked away from him in the opposite direction.

If she thought Logan would pause at her remark, hesitate over where to go, then she underestimated her opponent. He was right there with her, reading the subtext and giving chase before she'd managed to disappear.

"Max!" he called, forcing her to turn around and look at him. "She's not the one I want something from, but we both know that, don't we."

"I don't have anything left, Logan." Max replied, a sadness creeping into her voice before she she ruthlessly pushed it down with her sarcasm. "No more magic cure-all cells or super hero abilities from this girl. Guess, you'll have to find someone else to lay your next golden egg."

"And what if it's something I need from you, Max. Not 452, just you. And not Eyes Only, either, just me."

"Yeah," Max bit off, "and what exactly would that be."

The two of them had been standing at a respectable distance from one another. Close enough to talk, but far enough away not to given an impression of intimacy. All of that changed as Logan stepped forward, closing the distance so that their bodies touched lightly.

"Max?" Logan asked, a confused but not unwelcoming look in his eyes.

Even before she spoke, Max felt Logan's hands settling automatically on her hips, holding her steady. It sent a shiver of awareness through her even as she stated in a low voice: "Logan, what are you doing?"

Before she could say anything else Logan's eyes suddenly dropped down to her lips and Max felt as his fingers threaded through her hair as he tilted her face up to his bending form.

With a gentleness that was both startling and erotic, Logan brushed his lips lightly against hers, allowing her to feel the texture of his parted lips as a small breath escaped them. Without thinking, Max let out a small gasp as she wrapped her arms around his waist and followed his movements as he temporarily leaned back. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he entwined his fingers more firmly in her curls and reached for her lips again, this time with slightly more pressure.

His kiss wasn't static, but nor was it rushed either. His lips moved over hers with an assured passion that began to generate a low burning deep in Max's belly. Simultaneously, Logan's hand massaged her scalp with his fingertips causing small shivers to run up and down her spine and Max parted her lips without even realizing it. Gradually, Logan deepened their embrace, allowing one of his hands to slide down her shoulder, onto her back, coming to rest just before the curve of her backside, using it to pull her closer into his warm heat and hard body.

If Kurt's kiss had been champagne, Logan's kiss was a rich, complex wine that pervaded Max's senses and made her forget everything else. A wish, Logan seemed more than ready to comply with as he sensually touched her tongue with his own, an action that caused Max to tremble and Logan to groan lowly, deep in his throat as they both shifted closer.

It wasn't until she was literally knocked from behind that Max surfaced from the sensual fog she was enmeshed in. The push was strong enough to cause both Logan and her to stumble backwards slightly, as the passing figure of Caroline snapped out an angry: "Opps." A word that held no remorse, only callous anger. With a flick of her hair and an over-exaggerated sway to her hips, the woman kept walking, attempting to radiate an air of attitude and indifference that succeeded only in emulating a satiric take on a woman scorned.

Max couldn't contain the small chuckle that burst forth at the woman's antics. A chuckle that became a full out laugh when the woman "casually" looked back at the two of them to see if her performance had had any effect. The feigned glance of aloofness was immediately replaced with one of indignant anger when she noticed Max's amusement, and the X5 did her best to seem penitent by covering her face and turning back toward Logan.

She turned her smiling eyes up to his to share the moment, only to be stopped short by the burning look that seemed to never have wavered from her. It caused her laughter to die in her throat and a small surged of heat to fan through her face. Gone was the pensive, refined Logan Cale, cyber-journalist. What stared back at Max was pure, intense masculine awareness, directed toward her.

She could feel the want roiling off him, even before he stepped closer and slid his gaze down to her mouth, his eyes almost feverishly bright.

Her own reaction was immediately and utterly ambivalent. Her gut tightened in anticipation and desire, while her heart boiled over with anger and resentment. A mixture so potent that her stomach clenched as her pupils dilated and her breath increased – sure signs of two things – passion and rage. Which of the two was currently the predominating sentiment was anybody's guess.

Max's flashing eyes lifted to meet Logan's, eyes that revealed the turbulent mixture of emotions beneath much of which was rooted in pain. It stopped Logan in his tracks, bleeding the lust from him almost instantaneously as he realized how far Max was from reciprocating his feelings. In fact, if he was any judge or character he was reading that Max was seconds away from flattening him against the pavement.

Despite the imminent danger he was probably in, Logan chose to remain at his current distance, daring her to tell him what she was thinking. He was done with side-stepping their issues.

Max stood there, in front of her former humanitarian touchstone, and waited for his eyes to turn from heated pools of greenish blue to clear orbs of thoughtful grayish- azure, from Logan Cale to Eyes Only. Waited with a stillness that unnerved him and forced him to steel his resolved.

Finally, one word, hard and definite slid from her lips: "No."

Without backing off or lowering his gaze, Logan nodded his head in acknowledgement, "Okay."

Even as he said it, Max felt her gut twist in foreboding. He'd never do that again, if she left it at that. Which was what she wanted… right?

"It's just…" Max wavered, unsure of what she wanted to say. Logan made no move to interrupt, but waited for her reply.

"Not anymore, before…" she couldn't go on.

"When I was in the chair?" he pressed.

"Yes."

It was the admission that finally made his eyes drop and color rise to his cheeks. The final proof of what a blind ass he had been. It was that look of insecurity of shame, even, that touched Max most. Almost enough to make her reach out and touch him… almost.

"Friendship?" Logan finally asked, looking her in the eyes.

"Logan…" Max started, horrified that he could think otherwise. "There's never been anyone else like you in my life."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Logan."

"I get it, Max. Really, for the first time in a long time, I'm beginning to realize how much I had wrong."

"Can I get that in writing?" Max quipped. "Logan Cale, personal messiah to Seattle, wrong about something."

"Not a chance. So..Dinner tonight?" Logan pushed.

Max wavered, unsure, when he pressed, "I owe you."

She wasn't the only one who could use pretext to convey alternative meanings. It had been lightly said, but his eyes let her know that he considered that debt in regards to things far deeper.

"Eight o'clock?" she asked.

"Seven forty-five." Logan replied, giving her the smallest hint of a smile.

It was the last thing she saw, before she turned and lost herself in the crowd.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Fogle Towers…**

It was their first real dinner in a long time, since before Vertes and Jace; Caroline and Kurt; and all of the emotional baggage that had accumulated between them during Logan's treatment. It was something they were both conspicuously aware of as the oppressive silence continued to mount between them, making both painfully aware that although there were candles, wine, and a genuine Cale culinary miracle, there weren't the breezy, bantered filled exchanges that had mark their previous interaction. No, this dinner was occurring after too many painful words had been said and events transpired.

They tried to fix it, with small talk and awkward smiles and half-met glances. But nothing seemed to be working. In fact, as the night drew out, it seemed to become painfully apparent to both that their strange little relationship was indeed broken. It shouldn't have come as a shock. They had both known it had been fragile, a ticking time bomb of sorts; however, neither expected it to end like this – with comments about the weather and half-hearted complaints about sector check points.

As the night drew on, they found themselves having opposing responses. Logan tried harder, every now and again letting his frustration peak through his amiable façade; Max became more despondent, as if resigned to their lost connection.

Almost gently she turned down the dessert, coffee, and chess that Logan pressed upon her, determined not to let her go until they'd fixed this.

Carefully, she repeated her well-worn phrase: "Need to blaze."

Again, Logan protested, using transparent excuses about the lateness of the hour, the amount of food prepared, the loneliness of the night after she left. It seemed to bounce off marble, as Max's face remained impassive, his words seemingly having no effect.

Sighing in exasperation at the situation, Logan ran hand over the back of his neck, his eyes looking up to meet Max's once again as an unspoken plea seemed to call out to her. The gesture did what nothing else had, it reminded Max of their connection as she recalled dozens of times he'd used the same motion during difficult Eyes Only cases.

Signifying a type of concession, Max asked: "Walk me out?"

That request had never been uttered between them, even during the earliest stages of their interactions, and briefly Logan panicked, sure that Max might be foreshadowing an even deeper break in their already mangled relationship.

It caused Logan to consider something desperate, a mad attempt to reconnect with the physical where the psychological had failed, to attempt to kiss her into submission. It would be a suicide mission, Logan knew. This afternoon had been something special, a moment that allowed unusual events to transpire, and perhaps a building block for future liberties. That was before it went so unexpectedly downhill. To attempt it again, however, would be viewed as one more attempt of Logan manipulating her; of that he was sure.

Nevertheless, he began contemplating it again as he watched Max disappear through his office and enter into the foyer.

Fortunately, she chose that moment to pause, refraining from moving or speaking until Logan came up beside her. It was the spot where one of Logan's most prized painting once hung, a bequest from his grandmother that was sold to pay for the treatments that restored his legs.

Long seconds followed as he allowed an almost reverent silence to build, content to wait now that he knew Max was going to tell him something in that roundabout way of hers.

"I miss that painting," Max finally offered, standing in front of what was now an empty space.

"Me too, it was one of my favorites," Logan responded, coming up to stand beside her, both of their eyes facing forward.

"When the Vertes thing first happened you said you got tired of it."

Logan paused a moment, gauging her statement and realizing now was the time for truth.

"I was trying to hide what was going on from you, Max."

"Why that painting? I mean, you're loaded. There are plenty of other items you could have sold – or you could have just taken it from that never ending trove of Eyes Only fleeing witness supplies. Why this one? That you loved?"

"It's complicated."

Seeing her wry expression, Logan attempted to answer. "I guess I felt guilty even then that I might be able to walk while thousands of others couldn't. I felt like it should cost me something precious."

Max paused a second, weighing her words before she finally admitted: "You want to know something funny? I identified with that painting when all that was going on, when you stood me up for the game, seemed like you didn't have time to spend with me. Felt like you were tired of me, too."

Logan gave a mirthless chuckle: "No, Max, quite the opposite. I thought I was getting closer to you by walking. Though you're right, I was keeping you at a distance. I think I knew even then that I was doing something you wouldn't be able to forgive me for, no matter how necessary it was in my own mind. And I was right about one thing; walking did cost me something precious...."

He left no doubt as to his meaning as his piercing eyes stared into hers.

"I'm still here, Logan."

"No, you're not. Not like before, Max. And I know that it's my fault."

"It's gonna take time," she warned, turning her eyes back to the spot where the painting use to be, unable to meet his burning gaze.

"How much?" His tone was low and earnest, and sent shivers of awareness down Max's spine.

"I don't know," her own voice sounded surprisingly unsteady. She felt relieved when, through the corner of her eye, she saw him nod and turn to look at the now blank wall.

A few moments of silence passed between them, as they both stared at the emptiness, feeling the oppressive gap, when in a subdued tone, Logan stated: "I'll wait."

_Fade to black…_


End file.
